


In the Month of June

by ZutaraRightsActivist



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Katara/Zuko (Avatar), F/F, F/M, Lesbian Ty Lee (Avatar), Minor Aang/Katara, Minor Aang/Toph Beifong, Minor Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Multi, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZutaraRightsActivist/pseuds/ZutaraRightsActivist
Summary: In the year after the end of the 100 Years War, the new month-long celebration of the summer solstice is meant to bring the Four Nations together after so many years in disharmony. During the first night of festivities, Ozai and Azula break out of prison. Zuko knows he must personally go after them, but he needs help from a certain waterbender as well as a new agent of the Order of the White Lotus. Their journey may be the key to restoring not only balance, but harmony to the four nations.
Relationships: Aang/Toph Beifong, Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	1. Prologue

### Prologue: One Day In Late Spring

* * *

Elements are not the only things that can be bent. Someone who has ruled a nation for as long as Ozai is keenly aware of this fact. He has watched so many other things bend in his time. He has bent the will of his people toward war, destruction, and plunder. He has watched their knees bend to him in deference. He has bent the truth on more than one occasion, deftly manipulating facts and weaving them with deceit into an intricate tapestry of personal ambition. He has seen the strong will of those who would defy him bend and snap under the pressure of his army’s strength, under the looming towers of the many prisons dotting his small island nation.

Ozai is still a bender, even if he has been robbed of his control of fire.

He sits shaggy against the warm stones of the prison cell he has now occupied for nearly an entire rotation of the sun. The spring breeze is swiftly turning to summer humidity, and even at this early hour the air is stagnant and soggy. His muscles have atrophied, and his stringy hair sticks sickly to his neck. He has only the intermittent bumble fly that buzzes in his ear to remind him of his own stench - the stench of the overthrown despot, the Phoenix King turned to ash.

His eyes remain unfocused on the grimy floor of the cell, light barely peeking through the bars of the windows to illuminate the space. It’s early morning, and footsteps tell him that the guards are changing shifts. After some time, armor covered boots shuffle in.

A deep voice whispers in the dim light. “Your Highness,” it says, “I’ve brought what you’ve asked.” A folded piece of parchment falls to the ground in front of Ozai, and a rough chunk of charcoal clatters from its hiding spot among its creases.

Ozai smiles. He is still a bender indeed.

* * *

Azula remembers the way the water ran off of her skin as she struggled against chains. The sweat that slithers down her face brings her back to that moment of defeat. It pools around her collarbones as she lies languidly on the humble futon that alone furnishes the space - water that has thoroughly put out her bright blue flames. The sun hangs at its highest point in the sky, and light and heat flood the room.

Sighing, she turns to face the bars of her cage. She closes her eyes. In another hundred years, she will have enough strength to melt the metal bars in her hands. She doesn’t consider that even with cosmic power, small metal links were enough to hold her, just as they bind her hands together now.

Today is the same as the day before that, the day before that, and the day before that. Azula has lived this day two hundred and forty-eight times before. She lays in bed, the attendants bring her tea - she knows it is medicated - and sometimes after she drinks it she sleeps. It’s at this time that her mother visits, never staying past the flutter of her daughter’s waking eyes. Azula has dreamt of her mother since the end of the war.

“Miss,” she hears the soft lilt of one of the attendants. None of them know an appropriate title for her now. She hears a mix of honorifics, each time shaking with nervousness - which one she gets is the only variation she has. Azula crooks her eyebrow. “It’s time for your tea,” the quivering voice continues. This one must be new, as her voice shakes even more than is normal for one of the servants. Azula lifts herself from the futon and steps toward the small slot through which her afternoon tea is served. Her range of motion is limited by the heavy cuffs that encircle her delicate wrists, but she slides the tray into her grip and brings it to the edge of the mattress where she sits once again.

It is day two hundred and forty-nine, and something is different.

On her tray is a teacup, the aroma is the same as it usually is. On her tray is a small plate. On the small plate is sliced mango. And underneath the small plate is a small piece of parchment, folded neatly, concealed entirely by the delicate, painted ceramic. Azula unfolds the parchment, careful not to make a sound. Her eyes scan the page quickly, darting back and forth. The corners of her mouth curl into a sly smile as she takes a bite of mango.

Perhaps she would not have to wait a hundred years for her fire to burn brightly again.

* * *

The sky is a gradient, purples fading into orange as the sun sets behind the imposing walls of the palace. The Fire Lord sits by the turtleduck pond in the royal garden. A cool breeze blows the last of spring’s blossoms off of their branches, cooling the sweltering day into a bearable evening. The petals glide gently through the air, eventually landing softly in the water. They mix with the pieces of bread the royal has been throwing into the pond. A family of turtleducks paddles closer, eagerly snapping at the food before it sinks.

Zuko envies the turtleducks and their simplicity of being. They don’t have to participate in planning a month-long celebration of the summer solstice. They don’t have to worry about healing the fractures of a century-long war. The young firebender sighs a sigh beyond his seventeen years. Since the end of the war, the small amphibious creatures had become his only companions outside of the constant presence of royal advisors that flutter around him like ant flies. He consistently returns to this pond, the ripples of the water helping to soothe his many anxieties. He has many good memories here, some more recent than others. Zuko sighs deeply as he loosens his top knot and removes his crown, letting the loose strands of his inky black hair fall over his face.

Someone in the courtyard clears their throat suddenly. Zuko stifles the instinctive urge to create a ball of fire in his hand, his recent briefings with his advisors leaving him skittish. It’s just a royal servant. He rises to face the young attendant.

“Your Highness,” the servant begins, “a messenger hawk has arrived for you. It’s from Master Iroh.”

“Thank you,” Zuko takes the rolled up parchment. The attendant gives a deep bow, to which Zuko leans forward and nods in response, granting him permission to leave. The parchment is bound with a braided leather cord. A small pendant dangles from the binding. Zuko inspects the small silver ornament; A lotus is carved into it, just as he suspects.

He opens the parchment and begins to read.

> _“My Dear Nephew,_
> 
> _My apologies that the every day business of The Jasmine Dragon has kept me from the Fire Nation for so long. However, hearing nothing but excitement from travelers into the city about the coming festivities leads me to believe that all is well. Your hope that a month-long festival would bring much needed joy, relief, and unity to the nations seems to be coming to fruition. I will be seeing you soon anyway, as I will be arriving shortly to take part in the festivities myself. I am bringing some of the staff with me as well. Surely my own nephew will allow me to set up a booth to promote my business?_
> 
> _Oh, also, since I’m sure you have not yet done it yourself, I took the liberty of inviting your friends to arrive early. I am sure they are already on their way. They will all be arriving at the start of the next month, as will I. I look forward to seeing all of you then. I am sure this reunion will be joyous for all involved!_
> 
> _Iroh_
> 
> _PS - I trust you’ve kept my Pai Sho board in good condition. I have promised Master Katara that I will teach her._ ”

A badgerfrog croaks loudly. Zuko stands, blinking, his heart unable to decide if it wants to leap into his throat or dive deep into the pit of his stomach. His eyes linger over certain characters, particularly the last detail. He feels his breath hitch, but exhales forcefully to regain his composure.

This message was far too innocuous to require a White Lotus seal. Was his uncle up to something? He searches the parchment for something hidden, some detail he hadn’t picked up on. What was the key word? What was the hint? He turns the paper over in his hands, feels around the edges, runs his finger along the writing. Nothing. He groans loudly, nearly mimicking the call of the badgerfrog, and dramatically claws at his own face with his fingers. His affection for his uncle is unmatched, but sometimes the old man’s games left his head hurting.

Eventually, he rolls the parchment back to its starting point and re-ties the binding. He places the letter in his robes next to the sparkling gold flame of his crown. He takes one last lingering look at the turtleducks, continuing to dive for their dinner in the peaceful pond. The Fire Lord then turns to enter the palace, grumbling.


	2. Day One

The sun beams brightly overhead, perfect for the first day of the summer solstice celebration. Zuko watches the skies, waiting for an enormous bison-shaped shadow to appear amongst the few clouds floating weightlessly in the bright blue. Fire Nation servants wait in a neat line behind him, ready to assist the Fire Lord’s honored visitors with unloading their belongings. 

His nervousness comes over him like the ocean lapping at the dark rocks of the shore. Zuko stands on the dock, where Katara had promised to meet him. She would arrive with Aang on Appa, as Sokka, Suki, and the others would be coming by boat from Kyoshi Island. He clutches the letter in his hand absent-mindedly. It was the first letter he had received from the waterbender since she had left the Fire Nation with Aang. 

It had been months since he had seen any of them. After the end of the war, they had all eventually gone their separate ways. Rebuilding peace after 100 years of war meant additional struggle, even if they had only known the quiet happiness of being together without the looming threat of Sozin’s Comet for a short time. 

Aang had Avatar duties, and had been adamant about spreading the stories and culture of the air nomads throughout the remaining nations. In Zuko’s briefs from his advisors, he had been informed that Aang had even gotten a group of followers together that called themselves the “Air Acolytes”. Katara had predictably left with Aang, the inevitable extension of her pinning her hope to the young monk so many months earlier. Sokka went back to the Southern Water Tribe to assist Hakoda with rebuilding, and Mai, Ty Lee, and Suki all went back to Kyoshi Island to re-establish the Kyoshi warriors. Even his Uncle had kept his promise and returned to Ba Sing Se to reclaim his tea shop, although he kept in close correspondence with his nephew. Toph would often have his uncle chime in for her on his messages as well. She was a common fixture at the Jasmine Dragon despite being hard at work creating her metalbending academy. Zuko appreciated hearing from the young earthbender even if she did insist on calling him “Sparky”. 

Pacing, Zuko goes over figures in his head - how much had the reparations agreement been for the water tribe? What if it wasn’t enough? A distinct memory of overruling a royal advisor who balked at the thought of ordering a brand new koala sheep parka for Katara’s Gran-Gran flashed in his mind. That had been the least he could do after he had yanked the poor woman by her collar on his first visit to their nation's village.

Surely he would have heard from Sokka if there had been any trouble with the rebuilding efforts. He was sure Katara would have written him a strongly worded letter. He knew his advisors had told him of the rebuilding efforts in the South multiple times, but now his mind is as blank as the frozen tundra. 

An Earth Kingdom ship approaches in the distance. Zuko gulps. With his eyes on the grand watercraft, he doesn’t notice the flying lemur spiraling down from the clouds. 

Momo lights on Zuko’s shoulder, causing the Fire Lord to jump, emitting a sound effect only Sokka could appreciate. The little lemur flaps his wings, chittering frantically, and eventually lands on the ground in front of the frightened firebender. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” Zuko bends over, his hands on his knees. 

“Wait, it’s not just you,” he corrects himself quickly, straightening up and brushing off his royal tunic. He draws his hand to his brow like a visor, trying to locate Appa against the bright horizon. The bison groans loudly from above. 

Both vessels approach quickly, keeping time with each other. Eventually, the huge furry beast sets down with a thud. The crew of the Earth Kingdom ship throws the anchor overboard. The Avatar floats down from his place atop Appa’s head, sporting his signature cheerful smile. Zuko realizes as he embraces the young boy that he no longer has to bend to do it. 

“Heya ‘Sparky’” Aang laughs. Zuko makes a face. He hadn’t realized Aang had also kept in communication with Toph since they had all parted ways, and is displeased that his nickname has caught on. He clears his throat.

“Aang, it’s good to see you,” he bows slightly, “Where’s-” 

Katara appears behind the young airbender, shaking the distance out of her loose chestnut curls. She still wears it long and unbound, her hair loops framing her face. It’s just the way Zuko remembers it from the days they spent training to take on his father. 

“Master Katara, it’s an honor,” Zuko faces the waterbender now, still bowing as is customary when meeting dignitaries. 

“It’s good to see you, Zuko,” she says warmly, although her smile is more faint than Aang’s. He straightens, his amber eyes meeting her blue ones. There’s a hesitation as she approaches. For a moment he’s transported back to the dock of Ember Island, and he waits for her to launch herself into his arms again. This time is different. The sun is high overhead, and in the vivid light of the day Katara approaches him timidly, clutching his forearm at the elbow as she reaches around to give him a quick pat on the shoulder. 

“Aang, will you help me get our things?” she says, turning from Zuko and touching the monk’s tattooed hand gently. 

“Sure!” he leaps into the air, bending himself back onto the bison and grabs their bags. He’s back on the ground in what seems like seconds. A palace servant is already there to take the luggage from him. The other attendants pass the small group, heading toward the Earth Kingdom ship that just docked. 

Sokka is the first to step off the vessel, Suki by his side. The two warriors hold hands as they disembark, smiling and laughing. Mai and Ty Lee follow, also holding hands. They’re wearing matching Kyoshi warrior outfits, but their faces are bare. Behind them is one final pair, Iroh and Toph. Toph is yawning and stretching as she follows the others, and Zuko can already hear Sokka talking about how hungry he is. 

“Sokka!”

Before the gang can make it halfway up the dock, Katara takes off running. She crashes into the group, hugging her brother tightly. Zuko suddenly wonders how long it’s been since she’s seen him, too. 

The whole crew approaches the Fire Lord and the Avatar, a cacophony of catching up. Iroh breaks through his younger companions and moves quickly to embrace his nephew. The old general nearly lifts him from the ground with the force of his affections. 

“Sparky!” Toph chirps, “You got taller!”

“Really?” he responds, giving a slight smile at the tiny earthbender. 

“How should I know?” she replies, pointing at her eyes. 

Everyone laughs, and the sound actually puts Zuko’s anxious mind at ease. Maybe things would be just like they were. 

Zuko notices Mai and Ty Lee holding hands and crooks his eyebrow. Apparently when Mai left for Kyoshi Island to teach the warriors knife-throwing, she had learned a little bit about herself along the way. 

Maybe things wouldn’t be _exactly_ as they were.

When Zuko’s feet are fully on the ground again, he welcomes everyone. His heart feels lighter than it has in months. 

The feeling is short-lived. One of his advisors approaches quickly. The others watch as the ornately-dressed man whispers in Zuko’s good ear. The Fire Lord’s expression turns serious and he nods. 

“I’m sorry, I must go. The palace guard will escort you all to your quarters. I promise I’ll join all of you for dinner tonight. Uncle?” 

“I’m sorry, nephew, but I cannot accompany you. I believe I owe Master Katara here a lesson in Pai Sho,” Iroh says cheerfully. Katara smiles at the old man, nodding. Aang opens his mouth to protest, but is interrupted by Toph.

“That’s great. Twinkletoes here owes me an earthbending sparring match anyway,” she punches the monk in the arm. He rubs the spot, grinning. 

“You’re on,” he says excitedly. 

Zuko frowns, but nods at his Uncle nonetheless. He takes a final bow to his friends before letting his advisors lead him away from the docks. 

* * *

It is the same room, and it’s not. 

It’s still a room for strategy, it still has a large map of the four nations in the middle of it, and it’s still where the Fire Nation’s top advisors meet to discuss policy, current events, and plans. It’s still the same room in which Zuko stood up to his father, prompting the event that would change his destiny forever.

But it is no longer a war room. 

The flags and pennants that once marked the map, the demonstration of the Fire Nation’s dominance over its fellow nations, are gone. The only points marked now are those designated for decolonization projects and reparations programs. 

Zuko uses this room to plan for peace, not for battles. 

The royal high council sits around the large map. They rise from their seats as the Fire Lord enters. Zuko takes his place at the head of the table. 

“My Lord,” the advisor who had summoned him from the docks begins the briefing, “we have very important news for you from our intelligence operations in the city and former colonies.”

The advisor is a tall, thin man - not built for war. His time was spent in universities, studying history and the cultures of the four nations. He is a new addition to the council, picked for Zuko by his Uncle. His appointment to top advisor ruffled the feathers of many of the rest of the men in the room, many of whom still stuck to Fire Nation tradition of bribery, flattery, or outright aggression for their ranks. 

He adjusts his glasses as he continues speaking. 

“It appears the small forces that oppose your reforms and would seek to re-install your fa-” he clears his throat, “the former Fire Lord have grown. They have now recruited a bevy of delinquents in various parts of the four nations, with some possibly even infiltrating the city.”

“What are their plans?” Zuko’s voice rings clear through the hall. These men may be older than him, but his presence is commanding. The gold flame adorning his top-knot glistens in the firelight. 

“Your Highness, my apologies,” the man continues, “that is what is so urgent. We have not yet been able to get a clear reading on their capabilities. They are a very clandestine operation, and our operatives have had trouble infiltrating their ranks. The only thing we know is that their influence grows. We have no confirmation of any plans, but the unity celebrations for the summer solstice may be in danger.”

Zuko rubs his temples. 

“What is your recommendation? Should we cancel the festivities?” he asks. 

Another of his advisors stands now. This man is as broad as the other tall. He still wears his warrior’s armor into the strategy room.

“With all due respect, My Lord, we do not know for sure if the events are threatened, but the growing peace may be if we do not follow through with the celebrations. Your people are fatigued by these reparations, and many are looking forward to the economic opportunity brought by the expected tourism.”

Zuko considers the man’s point. The political upheaval brought by the end of the war had certainly been a burden on his people. Many of the former political elite watched their family members exchange places with so-called enemies of the Fire Nation in prisons, locked up for crimes committed during the war. The effects of the post-war peace plan had taken its toll on even the smallest rural Fire Nation farmer, who now had to boost his crops to meet demand. 

“Nian Zhen, what are your thoughts?” the young ruler addresses the bespectacled man. 

“It is true,” the first advisor speaks again, answering the question posed to him, “the festival is to bring much in the way of economic activity. The cultural exchange of the visitors coming from other nations to partake is also invaluable, as many in the Fire Nation still cling to the old values of supremacy and dominance. To preserve the peace and gain the endorsement of your subjects for these continued reparations, this month’s celebrations must go on.”

“We will increase security patrols,” this time the speaker is Mai’s father, Ukano. After the end of the war, Zuko had offered him a place on the council due to his relation to Mai. It was his personal peace offering to her.

“Our troops will patrol the streets and ensure the safety of our honored guests and countrymen,” Ukano continues. 

Zuko nods. 

“They will patrol, but they will be in their lightest armor possible. Many of our visitors have less than pleasant memories of our soldiers, and I do not want that to be the continued face of our nation,” he says, “This month of celebration is too important to our people to let those who are loyal to my father ruin it.”

“Yes, Highness, it will be so,” Ukano places his fist on his chest and bows, obscuring his face from view. 

“Good. Ensure my father and Azula have additional guards at their locations as well,” Zuko adds.

Ukano smirks at the floor. 

“That has already been done, Highness.”

* * *

One blue eye is half-closed, the other darts from the board to the old man in front of her while her hand squishes her face into a quizzical expression, the weight of her head pressing her elbow into the table. 

She still doesn’t get it. This game has no clear rules. 

She lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Master Katara, please don’t get frustrated,” Iroh says in his sagely tone, “Pai Sho is a game that takes many years to master. Not everything can come as naturally to you as waterbending!”

The old man chuckles and refills his companion’s teacup. This is their third game. Katara is beginning to believe that Iroh just wanted someone to defeat when he decided to teach her. Aang had also tried to teach her to play occasionally, too, but his version of the rules were a hundred years old. But more than anything, she still seemed to have the same issues with being taught by him as she had from so long ago, when she had stolen that water scroll from the pirates. She sucks in a breath, trying to muster the discipline to keep at her lesson. 

“Ok, so I need to create harmony amongst the different flower tiles,” she repeats her teacher’s earlier instruction back to him for confirmation. 

“Yes, the first step is understanding which tiles must be placed nearest each other to form harmony,” Iroh instructs his student, placing 6 tiles in a circle to demonstrate. 

“The rose tile, the chrysanthemum tile, the rhododendron - all red tiles - must be in harmony with the white tiles - the jasmine, jade, and fire lily tiles,” Iroh explains slowly, pointing to each tile as he describes them, “To make a ring of harmonies is the object of the game.”

“And the white lotus tile?” Katara asks, holding up one of the intricately carved pieces. 

“Ah yes, the white lotus tile can make harmony with any of the other tiles, and has much more freedom - it can make moves the others cannot,” he replies. 

“Must be nice,” the teenager responds, placing the tile on the board despondently. Iroh strokes his beard and considers the girl in front of him, now poking at the tiles he had laid neatly in a circle. 

“Master Katara, is there something you want to share?” he lets the query hang heavy in the air. 

Katara picks up the fire lily tile and turns it over in her fingers, studying the engraving. 

“No, I think I’m just tired,” she finally answers, “let’s start a new game.”

The old master doesn’t respond immediately, and instead collects the tiles from the board so they can redraw for the new game. He holds out the bag for the young waterbender. 

“Pai Sho is a game of strategy, but it is also a game of instinct. One cannot always make a move that is the most calculated. The white lotus tile is the most powerful because it is the most free,” Iroh offers his wisdom with a warm smile. 

Katara glances up at him, a new determination in her spirit, and plays her first tile.

* * *

“Ok, but we have to put everything back together,” Aang says firmly to his diminutive companion. The tiny earthbender seemed to be the only one among them who had yet to gain any significant height. She still stayed low to her element, now reaching only to Aang’s shoulder.

“Sure, sure, he won’t notice a thing, Twinkletoes!” she replies, waving her hand dismissively. The pair had been searching for a good spot to conduct their sparring match, and finally set foot in the coronation grounds where there was plenty of flat earth to work with. 

“You ready to get your butt kicked?” her voice is playful, and Aang matches her tone.

“Let’s go,” he leaps into the air, forming a ball of air to increase his distance, and lands on the other side of their makeshift arena. As soon as his feet touch the ground, the earth below him shakes and shifts, becoming a slab of floating rock. Aang leaps from the floating slab and onto solid ground, immediately rolling into an earthbending stance. He extends his arms forcefully, shattering the wall of stone Toph had used to set him off balance.

As he turns around, he sees another rock hurtling toward him from across the field. He dodges it, and sends three back at his opponent. Toph laughs. 

“That’s it? You out of practice, Twinkletoes? I think you’ve been spending too much time with Sugarqueen, she always did coddle you too much!” she taunts him as she stomps down on the ground, burrowing into it like a badger mole. 

Aang shakes off her teasing, instead putting her teachings to work feeling the vibrations of the earth beneath him. That’s how he’s ready when Toph pops up from the ground, covered in rock armor. He quickly encases himself in stone, and the two trade hand-to-hand jabs. Stone hits stone, sending sparks flying into the dirt. 

Toph lands a decent hit, knocking Aang some feet away. He changes tactics, shedding his stone encasing and sliding his foot across the gritty surface of the courtyard. The ground under Toph’s feet becomes sand. 

She grimaces. He knows it’s much harder for her to see on sand. She makes a few movements with her arms and a thick cloud of dust encases them both. Now as blind as his opponent, Aang keeps his feet firm to the ground, but he doesn’t feel a single vibration. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. 

Finally, he spins around, the air he whips up blowing the dust from the arena. 

He can see the small earthbender again, but it isn’t long before something cold and solid smacks his wrist, knocking him to the ground and pinning him there. 

Metal.

Aang sees Toph’s tiny feet bounding toward him. Her voice sounds angry, but she’s smiling.

“NO airbending, Avatar. This is an EARTHbending battle. Remember, you’re not the only one with a unique ability.” Her hands are on her hips, but she eventually releases him from his single substitute handcuff. 

“Ok, ok, you caught me, sorry,” Aang apologizes playfully, rubbing his wrist where it had previously been captured. 

“Hey Toph?” he then asks.

“Yeah?” she replies.

“What was this piece of metal?”

Aang looks up to notice that half of an ornate decoration in the courtyard is missing. 

They face each other, saying the same word in unison. 

“Oops.”

* * *

They smell dinner before they see it. Sokka audibly gasps as they enter the room. Suki keeps her hands firmly on his arms, ready for him to possibly faint at the sight. 

“This looks incredible!” Ty Lee exclaims, tumbling over to a seat. She is now wearing her characteristic pink ensemble, while Mai sports her usual black attire. 

“I’ll admit, this is pretty nice,” Mai says flatly as she takes a seat next to the bubbly acrobat. 

The table is covered from end to end with plates of various dumplings, noodles, and curries. Zuko stands at one end, waving his friends into the room. The large windows behind him let in the orange light of the setting sun. The whole city is visible from this vantage point.

Aang takes Katara’s arm and leads her to a seat next to him. She makes a half hearted attempt to steer him to a spot closer to Suki and her brother, but is overruled by her eager partner. Iroh sits on Aang’s other side, also next to Zuko. 

“This is quite a feast, my nephew,” he says proudly, already reaching for a dumpling. Sokka sits opposite the Grand Lotus, a dumpling already in his mouth. Zuko sheepishly accepts the compliment, finally sitting once his guests have all started digging in to the varied offerings on display. 

The noise of the group descends into the sound of chewing, accented only by the clanking of fine silver chopsticks. Each member of the friend group has a question they want to ask, a story they want to tell, but they quash the urge with noodles instead.

Finally, Katara speaks up.

“So, Suki, how has Kyoshi Island been?” she asks politely. 

“Very good!” the young warrior woman smiles brightly. “The statue of Kyoshi has been newly refurbished, and no one has recently burned it down!” 

Zuko spits out a piece of komodo chicken.

“Relax, Zuko, I’m kidding,” Suki chuckles, “Sokka’s been teaching me the art of the joke. How’d I do?”

“Vwrry gud” Sokka’s mouth is still full. 

“No really, it’s good to see everyone, I think we’ve been apart too long,” Suki is brave enough to say what everyone else has been thinking. Another silence descends on the group. Ty Lee squirms in her seat. 

“Ok, Mai and I are girlfriends now. We’re girlfriends! We’re in love! And my aura has reached a truly new level of pink!” She finally blurts. The clanking of chopsticks stops. Mai covers her face with her hand and groans loudly. Suki covers her own mouth, stifling a laugh.

The dinner table is frozen for a moment. The only movement is the noodles sliding off of Sokka’s chopsticks, having never made it into his still open mouth. 

“Congratulations, ladies,” Iroh finally says. The rest of the group chimes in, finally free of their momentary paralysis. Zuko gives a small smile to Mai and holds his glass out. The others quickly hold theirs out as well. They all drink. 

Mai murmurs a thanks, and Ty Lee squeezes her arm, beaming. 

“So what else is new?” Toph says to the whole of the order. 

“Dad and I finally finished the new village square,” Sokka proclaims, “The help that Gran-Pakku was able to get from the Northern Water Tribe was awesome. We’re starting on a new watch tower next - a project that’s near and dear to my heart. Katara - you really should come see it some time. You wouldn’t recognize it!” 

“That sounds amazing,” Katara gives a half-hearted smile, “maybe once the air acolytes are better established we can visit - right Aang?” 

Aang nods, his face warm and genuine. He places his hand on Katara’s. She laces her fingers with his. 

“Everyone should also see Miss Bei Fong’s metalbending academy as well,” Iroh points out. Toph scoffs a bit. 

“Those wimps can barely bend a coin. But with some time, they may yet be as awesome as me,” she punches her own hand as she says the words. The rest of the group chuckles at the tiny girl’s large ego. 

The group continues their feast. Outside, stars begin to dot the sky. When bowls finally meet the table for good, Zuko clears his throat.

“I brought you all up here for dinner for a reason,” he says, “we’re starting off the summer solstice celebrations with fireworks. We should get a great view of them from the balcony. They should be starting soon.”

“That sounds great! Thanks, Zuko!” Aang is the first to pop out of his seat. Katara gets up, too. They head through the sliding door to the balcony, followed by some of the others. 

“Oh, great view, huh?” Toph grumbles. Ty Lee walks behind her. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll describe them to you!” she says cheerfully, “All my work with auras has made me very good at describing colors. It’ll be like you’re looking right at them!”

“Yeah, ok, that’ll work,” Toph replies cheerfully. 

The crew scurries on to the balcony. Aang has his arm around Katara’s waist, she has both elbows on the balcony railing. Almost the entire city is visible from this vantage point. The red tile roofs of the Fire Nation capital shine in the dim moonlight. They wait several moments, watching as crowds of Fire Nation citizens and visitors from across the world gather below to see the sky display. Zuko is proud to see diversity in the crowd, there is a mix of green, red, and even blue garments amongst the people waiting to enjoy the explosive entertainment.

Finally, the crack of a cannon going off rings through the night. The sky explodes into color, first red, then white. Katara can hear Ty Lee whispering to Toph.

The next blast comes, sending purple glitter into the stars. It’s followed by a series of fireworks that explode in the shape of each nation’s insignia. The crowd below roars with applause.

Another rumble begins. Nothing appears in the sky. The rumbling grows louder.

Zuko’s pupils sink into pools of bright amber. Ty Lee’s whispering stops abruptly.

A plume of orange and red erupts from a distant tower. Screams erupt from the crowd. 

Brick and mortar tumble to the ground, crashing violently into the street below. The top of the tower shifts, tilts, eventually collapsing in on itself. 

Another explosion reverberates through the city, this one spewing flames from the palace. Another appears in the harbor. The tiles once glistening in the moonlight now reflect the flickering blaze spreading through the city as the festival-goers scurry to escape. Smoke hangs thick in the air. 

There is an emotion Zuko has never heard in Toph’s voice as she softly speaks.

“That. . .wasn’t a firework.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading all the way through chapter 1! I'm very excited to kick this story off, and I hope I did so with a bang! (Yes, the pun was intended I'm so sorry)
> 
> In any case, as you might have guessed since this is only chapter one, this is only the beginning of the saga. There's still plenty of Zutara slow burn goodness coming up! Please stick with me here!
> 
> And as always, please drop a comment and let me know what you thought. I don't have a beta or really anyone to edit other than myself, so I'm super open to comments and constructive criticism!


	3. Boiling Point

Wordlessly, Aang launches his glider into the air, leaping off the balcony railing to grab it. Katara screams his name, nails digging into the wood of the barrier, her torso hanging dangerously off the side of the platform. The airbender just sails further toward the blasts, disappearing into a cloud of smoke. She stops calling after him, hearing loud footsteps on the creaking wood of the balcony. She spins around wildly, not even realizing the salt water being flung from her eyes, lungs taking in the smoke-filled air in heaves. She sees only Zuko’s back as he goes bounding toward the exit of their makeshift dining hall.

“Zuko!” her voice is shrill as her legs finally begin to propel her forward. She takes off after the firebender. The rest of the group finally comes unglued as well, launching themselves into action. They follow the Fire Lord down into the frenzied streets. 

“Where is he going?” Sokka gasps, glancing up from the cobblestone, his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. Festival-goers of all nations scream in terror as they flee. Fire Nation soldiers head bravely toward the source of the blasts. Zuko is still running toward a singular point, ignoring the chaos around him. 

“That tower,” Iroh shouts over the discord, pointing toward the site of the initial blast. The gang picks up their pace again, keeping after their friend. 

“What about it?” Sokka asks, still huffing and puffing. 

“It’s where they imprisoned his father,” Mai responds in her normal flat tone, but her face shows worry. Dread creeps into Katara’s veins as she continues running, trying to gain ground on the firebender. Her focus is so intense, she doesn’t notice the cloaked figures starting to surround the group.

“Watch out!” Toph screams, “we’ve got company!”

Katara screeches to a halt. A shuriken collides with a stiletto next to her ear, sending both pieces of metal clattering to the ground. She gasps, popping the cork of her water skins as she nods at Mai. A sudden appreciation for the skills of her former enemy washes over her.

She hears a grunt as another cloaked man is sent backwards by a large stone. Katara quickly sends a water whip at another attacker. Ty Lee and Suki are busy taking down two of the black-clad men with chi-blocking techniques, their movements swift and nimble. Sokka dodges a few jabs from a swordsman, blocking one of the blows with his jawbone dagger. 

“Where did these guys come from?” Suki finally yells across the skirmish. 

“I don’t know,” Katara’s voice struggles against the sound of the battle as she freezes the ankles of one of the attackers, “but we’re losing Zuko!” 

Iroh stomps on the ground, sucking in a large breath. Suddenly, a wall of flames erupts around the group. 

“Master Katara, you must go after him!” Iroh’s sage-like tone is replaced by the voice of the General he once was. “We will hold them off!”

Iroh splits the fire wall just enough for the small waterbender to leap through. Without thinking, Katara sprints through the opening. She can just make out the outline of the Fire Lord in the distance, and she runs after him with all of her might. 

Zuko’s heart pumps determination into the burning muscles of his legs as he continues to run. The blood pumping loudly in his ears blocks out the sounds of the ongoing brutality around him. The entrance of the prison tower is in his view. 

In the dull blur, Katara’s voice rings out clear.

“Zuko!” 

The thundering of his heart subsides just as her voice hits him like lightning. He grazes his tunic where a star-shaped scar lies beneath the fabric as he turns to face the waterbender. Her hair billows behind her as she makes up the distance between them. He half expects to see Azula’s blue fire crashing behind her with the way she’s running, but she makes her way to his side without incident. 

“What are you doing?!” she screams. 

“My father-” he responds, but she cuts him off. 

“I know _that_ ,” she is breathless, but still finds a way to raise her voice at him, “why are you going by yourself when we were all there to help?”

“I-” he tries to start again, only for his attempt to be prematurely ended again. 

“You can count on us, Zuko. You can count on me,” she grabs his hand, locking eyes with him as she says the words. They are a bright blue contrast to the darkness and flames swirling around them. Her mouth is a thin line of hard determination. Before he can respond, he feels her tugging at his hand as she begins dragging him along, restarting their mad dash to the entrance of the prison tower. 

The door to the tower is off its hinges. Two prison guards are slumped against the wall like rag dolls. Katara kneels to check them. They have burn wounds, but not bad enough to threaten their lives. The pair take off into the first chamber of the monumental penitentiary. Katara can’t help but notice that nearly every cell is empty, heavy metal doors creaking as they swing loosely back and forth. She watches Zuko’s jaw clench as they continue to race toward the spiral staircase that leads to the top of the tower - an indicator he has noticed it, too.

Wounded guards line the stone steps, many groaning as they come to. Without the time to heal them, Katara continues on her way with Zuko, bounding up the stairs. Readying herself for anything, she uncorks her water skeins as they reach the top. 

The space is empty - only pieces of the wooden roof of the tower remain burning on the gray stone floor. The scent of blasting jelly still hangs acrid in the space, mixing with the smoke and soot from the blast. Zuko tugs on Katara's arm, pulling her back toward him as an additional board comes crashing to the ground in front of them. An enormous fissure has been created in the wall where a makeshift explosive was detonated. A rope is still tied to one of the mangled bars of the jail cell, leading out of the opening and down to the street. 

Katara gasps as her vision reaches the wall still left standing. A message has been hastily scrawled, burned savagely into the smooth stone. It’s barely visible in the faint light of the single torch that remains. 

> _Make sure to bring your peasant, Zuzu_

She hears Zuko make a noise as if he is trying to speak. She turns away from the scribbled taunt to face him. His jaw is hard set as he searches her face, his amber eyes an elixir of fear, dread, and a plea for her forgiveness. 

Katara has frozen entire waves of water into ice, but the fury that rises in her at this moment would cause the oceans to boil. 

She whips her head around to look at the screed one more time. In that moment she is transported back to the coronation grounds, the same orange haze of fire surrounding them, listening to Azula call him by that taunting name as he writhes on the ground, blue shocks of lightning still rippling from his body. When she looks back at the firebender, her voice is deep and aggressive. Zuko feels her hand on his wrist like a hot iron as she looks him dead in the eyes. 

“If Azula wants a rematch, she’ll get one. Don’t worry about that.”

“What's going on?” a familiar voice echoes from behind Zuko. 

Shaken from her anger, Katara peeks around the firebender to see Aang landing his glider on the edge of the wrecked tower wall. He wipes sweat from his forehead, obscuring his arrow with soot from the back of his arm. His robes are slightly singed, but otherwise he appears to be no worse for wear. 

“Aang!” Katara’s tone is suddenly bright again, and Zuko feels the heat of her palms leave his wrists. She rushes over to the airbender, throwing her arms around him. 

“What’s going on?” he repeats his question, returning her embrace. Zuko detects a twinge of jealousy in the Avatar’s face as he holds Katara, almost as if they were back in Ba Sing Se, under a soft green crystalline glow. Zuko decides to fill the space with words this time.

“My sister and my father have escaped,” he barely finishes his sentence before the anger hits him. He roars with frustration, sending a flame-covered fist toward the wall containing Azula’s message. 

Aang follows Zuko's fist, not having noticed the message before. He squints to make out the letters in the flickering firelight. His eyes widen and his mouth forms an inaudible gasp as he reads the message. 

“I have to go after them,” Aang asserts. 

“No, you don’t,” Zuko replies quickly, his tone clipped, “I do.” 

* * *

The night still hangs thick like black tar over the wounded Fire Nation. The fires are out. The festival-goers have long since returned to their dwellings, the streets now quiet aside from the disciplined march of soldiers’ boots. The smoke has almost entirely dissipated. Brightly painted booths are left empty, some of the banners hanging torn from the stampede of terrified crowds. Cabbages lay smashed on the bricks. 

Zuko paces the strategy room, his Uncle his only guest. He sent away all of the panicking advisors, all of the frenetic servants. In their stead, he received one briefing only from Nian Zhen, who he then quickly excused. Strands of black hair poke from between his fingers as he holds his face in his hands, treading the same ground over and over again. His mind races through the summary of the night’s events as told by his top advisor just moments ago.

Nian Zhen had apologized profusely, his glasses falling down his nose more than once as he had provided the report. The pro-Ozai contingent was stronger than any of them had anticipated, and they had no intelligence to predict this attack or any others that may be coming. Along with the explosions, masked agitators had attacked people in the streets, some even accosting his friends and fellow war heroes, most likely in an attempt to kidnap one or more of them. The group of young warriors easily dispatched and arrested the assailants, and they were now being held in the dungeons below the palace. There was damage to the prison tower, and many of the war’s top criminals had escaped. In addition, the attackers had managed to detonate explosives in the nation’s harbor, destroying many of the merchant and traveler ships, leaving them stranded.

The Fire Lord releases a sorrowful growl as he focuses on the consequences of the night. In a split second, the terrorists had not only managed to free two of the nation’s top war criminals, but they had also destroyed multiple buildings, part of the harbor, and with it the nation’s faith in their young ruler. 

“Zuko,” Iroh says his nephew’s name in an authoritative tone. It rings across the lofty hall, echoing among the tall columns.

He keeps pacing.

“Zuko!” he repeats, increasing his volume. 

“I’m going after them, Uncle,” the firebender finally rasps, stopping mid-track and throwing his hands to his sides, “and I’m going tonight.”

“Zuko,” Iroh says the young man’s name a third time, only to be ignored again.

“I know you’ll say I’m needed here, that I should focus on uniting the country,” Zuko spits the words out quickly, starting to stomp back and forth again “but Azula and my father are _my_ responsibility.” 

“I agree with you, Zuko,” Iroh says plainly, his face stern. His nephew stops again, disbelief marking his scarred face. Iroh continues speaking. 

“Leading this country is your responsibility as the Fire Lord, it’s true,” he grabs Zuko by the shoulders before the young man can begin his frenzied walking again, “but to do that you must have the trust and respect of your people. For that, you must defeat the very people who caused this attack." The Grandmaster pauses for a moment before continuing. 

"Last year, you restored your own honor. Now is the time for you to defend it, my nephew.”

Zuko listens intently, his golden eyes glistening.

“However, just like before, once again you should not face Azula alone” Iroh continues, “My brother may not be able to bend anymore, but you cannot underestimate how powerful they can be, nor how many supporters they might have.” 

“The Avatar. . .“ It’s not the word he wants to say, but Zuko believes he is following where his wisest advisor is going. The older man shakes his head. 

“Aang’s responsibility is to maintain this peace that he has brought to the four nations. He will be needed here and cannot go with you,” Iroh says sagely, “but you will need someone who is passionate, skilled, and fearless. Someone who has faced down Azula before.”

Zuko swears he detects a slight smirk in his Uncle’s expression. He recognizes the same knowing tone he had taken in the White Lotus camp on the eve of Sozin’s Comet, and the name that comes to Zuko’s mind is the same as it was then. He doesn't respond immediately, 

“Thank you, Uncle,” the young Fire Lord responds evenly, his overall demeanor much calmer than before, “Will you please have the royal guard pack two travel kits?” 

* * *

“Can’t we do this some other time?” the voice belongs to Katara, the question is combined with a sigh. She sounds hoarse and tired. She squats down and begins untying the knots of her unpacked satchels still lying on the lacquered floor of the guest suite. 

“No!” Aang’s tone is elevated, and harsher than he means it to be, “What are you doing?” the normally nimble airbender now presses his weight into the wooden slats of the guest chamber they had barely settled into, standing over the waterbender.

“Re-packing,” she says flatly. Aang groans, frustrated with her, himself, and this night. He is still wearing his singed tunic, still covered in the dusty aftermath of the attacks. 

It occurs to the young airbender that he never should have hopped into Appa’s saddle to return to the Fire Nation in the first place. The past 7 months since Katara had stepped out onto that balcony, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him had been like a dream. She was helping him build back his nation, his people. She always took care of everything, just like always, unwavering in her support. He was more in love with her than ever. 

But now, back in the Fire Nation, once again he had barged in on an intense moment between the girl he loved and his enemy-turned-friend. It was the same physical proximity that had made him worry so much on Ember Island. It was the same closeness that had encouraged the young airbender to put miles of land and sea between the two after the end of the war. It had been so long since he had felt the type of jealousy that was currently coursing through his veins. It was the same negativity that had welled up in him before his final battle with Ozai, the kind of rash resentment that caused him to do and say things he had later regretted. 

This time, Aang bites his tongue.

“Katara,” he says her name gently, “we don’t even know what Zuko’s going to do yet. He’s talking to Iroh about it now. Why are you repacking?” 

Katara doesn’t look up from her task, not immediately offering Aang a response. She works her fingers through the knots, focusing on the feeling of the strings. She takes a simple tunic out of one bag and places it into another. 

Of course she had told Aang the story about how she and Zuko had taken down Azula on the day Sozin’s comet scorched the earth. She had recounted the Agni Kai, and how Zuko had jumped in front of lightning to protect her, of course, and how she had healed him after taking Azula down herself. He had remarked on her cleverness in how she defeated the crazed girl, beaming with pride. 

Of course, some parts she had left out. She hadn’t told Aang about how much time she had spent alone with the firebender after he had disappeared. How she had relied on him to lead the group. She hadn’t shared how her heart had stopped as she had watched the energy of the lightning crackle around the then-prince as he fell heavy to the ground. She hadn’t told him about the tender way he had looked at her as she healed his wounds. 

She considers her answer carefully.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she finally says, rising from her spot with a few more garments from her bags before finally meeting Aang’s gray eyes, “if Azula wants a rematch I’m going to give it to her. I need to be ready.”

“Well yeah, I heard you say that part,” he takes one of the tunics from Katara’s arms and begins folding it, ”but what, you’re just gonna drop everything and go after her with Zuko if he asks?” The young man somehow manages to combine both confidence and apprehension into the question. He punctuates the query with a playful scoff, as if he already knows the answer.

“Yes. I am.”

He stops folding the garment, throwing it loosely onto the ornate bed at the center of the room.

“What?!” his eyebrows are furrowed and his tone is harsh.

She doesn’t answer him. She places her clothing on a large carved bench at the end of the bed. She picks up one of the tunics and refolds it. Aang takes a step toward her, raising his volume as he speaks a second time.

“You can’t just run off into the night, Katara!”

He hears the tunic slap the floor as she flings it from her hand. She balls up both fists as she turns to face him. For the second time tonight, she feels anger simmering throughout her whole body. With only a moment’s hesitation, she lets the bitter words bubble over. 

“But _you_ can?!”

Aang is stunned by her outburst. He stands, mouth agape, blinking. There’s a storm in her eyes as she stares him down. 

“I-” he tries to say something, knowing she is talking about his earlier leap into danger. Against his better judgement, he lets indignance take over, his eyebrows becoming furrowed once again. 

“I’m the _Avatar_ , Katara.” he emphasizes his title as he says it, but she stands her ground.

“And what am I?,” she stays glued to the spot, hands still coiled into fists. The only movement is her eyes narrowing as she continues, “Am I just the Avatar’s girlfriend?” 

He tries to come up with words of denial, but images of their shared time flash in his mind. He sees her sitting with her head in her arms in the back of a classroom as he shows off a new airbending move for the Acolytes, washing clothes as he finishes a lecture on Air Nomad values, and gazing wistfully at the clouds as they head toward another new village, her arm dangling listlessly over the edge of Appa’s saddle. 

He shakes the images from his head. Despite his intense spiritual training, he again becomes the teenage boy he is. Aang grinds his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“No!” he chokes out, “I just don’t want you to go, ok?!” 

Katara softens her gaze. The pain in his voice makes her anger sputter as if it were an engine without fuel. She swallows, feeling the pain in her own throat from screaming after him into the night, and her expression hardens again. She snatches the thrown tunic from the ground, beginning her folding anew. Before she can respond, the large chamber door squeaks. Katara directs her attention to the entryway, losing the aggression in her stance. Aang floats over to open it.

Zuko’s hair is loose and tousled as he stands in the doorway. His clothes are casual, a simple vest and traveling pants. He gives a nervous show of teeth as the door swings open, his fist still in a position to rap on the wood. 

“Hi,” he says weakly. “Zuko. . .” he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he finishes the phrase,”. . .here.” 

Aang scowls as he begrudgingly pushes the door further so the Fire Lord can enter. Zuko barely steps into the threshold before Aang gives one last somber look at Katara. She doesn’t return his gaze. He growls and pushes past the firebender, leaving the room without another word, disappearing down the long dark hallway. Katara slinks down on to the bench, letting out another heavy sigh. Zuko takes a tentative step toward her, his arms now hanging loosely at his sides. 

“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Katara asks, clearly confused by Zuko’s continued presence in the room. 

“No, I uh-” he rubs the back of his neck, “I came here to see you. Aren't _you_ gonna go after him?"

"No," she doesn’t look at him as she says it, and she doesn’t elaborate beyond the terse response. He lifts his hands in a defensive motion.

“I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he says, his voice high and a bit panicked. “I didn’t hear much.”

“It’s ok,” she replies in a defeated tone, still not facing him. “it’s. . .not your fault.” She fiddles with the cloth in her hands. Zuko maintains his distance as he musters up the courage to ask the question he came with. Noticing the girl’s forlorn tone, he asks something different.

“Is. . .everything ok?” he decides its safest to plaster himself opposite the waterbender, leaning against the room's crimson brocade wallpaper. 

She swiftly lifts her chin to look at the young man across from her. Her eyes sting, but she refuses to let the tears come. She wills her bottom lip to stop quivering, and instead uses it to form the only words she can muster.

“I don’t know,” she waits, “is it?”

Zuko is just as hesitant to answer. He thinks of explosions in the sky, the screams of his people, and now the red-eyed waterbender sitting mournfully on an ornate bench in front of him.

“I guess it isn’t,” he eventually rasps. Another moment of silence passes between the tentative teenagers. Zuko leaves the safety of the wall to move toward Katara. He steps gingerly around her to sit on the edge of the bed, wrapping his hand around the chiseled wooden canopy. She twists her body to face him, reaching for the same column.

“I have to go after Azula and my father,” he says the words matter-of-factly, but his voice is barely above a whisper, “I’ve spoken to Uncle, and he told me I should have someone with me, just like before. He said it should be someone passionate and fearless,” he stops and turns his face away from her, trying to hide the heat rising to his cheeks. He regrets sitting with his unmarred side facing her. He looks at his boots as he continues speaking.

“And I- well, I don’t want to cause you any problems, but when Uncle was describing who I should ask, I-” Zuko stumbles over the explanation. He leaps up suddenly, facing Katara. He puts his fist over his heart and bows deeply.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to say yes, but I need to ask for your help - again,” he says quickly, not looking up, "it would be my honor if you would help me in this task, Master Katara." 

Katara is silent, sitting stupefied on the bench. Her mouth hangs open slightly, but she’s able to close it quickly before the firebender rights himself again. 

“I’m going to be leaving before sunrise. If you decide to come with me, I’ll be at the ostrich horse stables.”

He leans over and nods again before hastily turning around and leaving the room.

The waterbender is left alone with her decision-making. She remains motionless, finally allowing the earlier stinging to become waves of salt water in her ocean eyes. 

* * *

The beaked beast squawks and grunts in the dark. The moon is a thin crescent of silver as it makes its descent into the deep indigo horizon, graciously making way for the budding rays of the sunrise. The only illumination in the stables is the bright ball of fire in the Fire Lord’s palm. He tries to soothe the animal with his other hand, stroking its feathers gently. The creature’s groaning becomes a murmur.

“I thought these were only used in the Earth Kingdom,” he hears Katara’s voice behind him. Zuko smiles softly before turning around. 

She’s dressed in traveling clothes, a simple blue tunic over pants she’s tucked into her boots. A bag is slung over her shoulder. He watches as she reaches into one of the ostrich horse stalls, patting its inhabitant lightly on the head. 

“It’s a long story, but I traveled with an ostrich horse briefly when I was in the Earth Kingdom,” he explains, walking toward her, “so after the end of the war, I asked the Earth King if the Fire Nation could purchase a small herd of them as part of our new trade agreement. I’d rather our security forces use ostrich horses than komodo rhinos. . .we’re, uh, trying not to be so overbearing.”

He thinks he sees her snicker in the soft glow of his lambent flame. He picks up a nearby saddle and readies one of the creatures for travel. 

“We should only take one. If one of these creatures can handle the weight of both me and my Uncle, it should handle the two of us just fine.” Zuko leads the readied ostrich horse over to the waterbender, "it'll be easier and less detectable to share a mount."

“That is, if you’re here because you’re going to come with me,” he quickly adds, giving Katara a nervous glance. 

She offers a small nod in return. 

Zuko picks up two black pouches and attaches them to the saddle. He climbs into a riding position, holding his arm out to her. She grabs his elbow as she lifts herself up to sit behind him. 

“Are you ready, Katara?” he asks, turning his face to the side to hear the girl behind him. 

“I’m ready. Let’s go,” she replies, steadfast resolve echoing in the syllables. 

Zuko snaps the reigns. The tufted biped trills as it carries the Fire Lord and the waterbending master into the breaking dawn.   
  



	4. The Rose Inn

The sounds of rebuilding reverberate through the city square. Merchants cautiously re-hang their signage and shopkeepers sweep dust and soot from their storefronts. Hammers drive new nails into rooftops, securing new shingles. Sokka comments on the workmanship as he walks toward the harbor with Suki. 

“Sokka, maybe you should lower your voice, they can _hear_ you,” the young auburn-haired girl whispers, “beside that, don’t you remember your sand sculpture from Ember Island?” She laughs a bit as she says the last part, fondly remembering her boyfriend’s depiction of her as a blob monster on the beach before the end of the war. Sokka sputters, flabbergasted. After uttering some noises, he finally forms words. His voice is high-pitched and even louder than before. 

“I can _build things_!” he stammers, scowling, “I’ve been helping dad rebuild our village back in the South Pole!” 

“Relax, I just don’t want these guys to get offended,” she motions at the sweat-covered men with her head, trying not to be obvious, “People are already on edge, I don’t know how they would feel with having an outsider looking over their shoulders as they rebuild their shops and houses.” She takes his arm and leads him away from the burly construction workers, many of whom have begun to grimace at the two teens. Sokka strokes an invisible beard on his chin.

"So what you're saying is," he poses seriously, "you don't think I should get these guys too _fired up_?"

He raises his eyebrows and grins at the Kyoshi warrior as he finishes his sentence, waiting for raucous laughter to erupt. Hearing none, he continues by trying to explain the joke to a straight-faced Suki.

"'Cause they're from the Fire. . .Nation?" His voice trails off, losing confidence in his ability to pun. Suki's serious expression quickly turns into a smile and laugh. She takes his hand as they continue on their way. The pair turns a corner to head into the harbor. As they arrive, they see Aang and Toph assisting a small squad of Fire Nation soldiers with cleanup from the night’s destruction. 

Aang is intensely focused, working in tandem with his former earthbending sifu, holding back the incoming ocean waves with waterbending as Toph bends the sand beneath distorted hunks of metal that used to be Fire Nation ships. As the sand moves to her will, crews of Fire Nation soldiers clear away the wreckage. 

Something is missing from the scene. 

Sokka’s eyes dart around until he locates Momo sitting on a pile of lychee nuts. He gives a relieved sigh, then pauses, checking the area again. He sees only Aang dutifully holding the entire ocean at bay. There is no chestnut-haired waterbender assisting him with the process. A slight panic starts to take hold of the Water Tribe warrior.

Before he can blurt anything out, Toph calls to him, finishing up with her sandy task as the last of this particular barge is successfully carried away by the clean up crew.

“Sokka!” she waves from across the dock to get his attention. Her wave appears as more of a warning than a greeting, and there’s an odd tone in her voice. Sokka takes a step forward, the vibrations letting Toph know that he’s about to speak and ask a dangerous question. Aang still has not even looked up from his task, and instead stares only out into the deep blue water he’s currently commanding. 

Toph motions to Sokka desperately, trying to avoid catching Aang’s attention. She points first to her forehead with both index fingers extended, bringing them down in a loop motion toward the back of her head. She repeats it once. Afterward she flattens her hand, bringing it through a slicing motion near her neck and shaking her head. She continues making that motion as she points to Aang with her other hand.

Sokka peers at the small earthbender, trying to make out her strange sign language. He looks at Suki, who shrugs. 

“Hey Toph,” he calls, waving enthusiastically, deciding to ignore her weird behavior. The blind girl lets out a breath as though she’d been carrying a boulder until the older boy calls out again. 

“Hey Aang! Where’s Katara?” Sokka’s question echoes loudly across the docks. 

Toph groans and grabs at her eyelids.

Salt water comes crashing into the harbor as the Fire Nation troops scatter. The men wail comically as they’re swept up by the incoming flood. Sokka and Suki wince in tandem. The first of the troops surfaces, spitting water from his mouth. They all grumble as they swim toward the shore.

Aang’s shoulders drop, the arrows on his arms now pointing straight toward the ground. He stays in his spot. Sokka’s earlier unease becomes full-fledged worry. He and Suki make their way toward the airbender, and get just close enough to hear his dejected tone as he says the words.

“She’s gone.”

The young Water Tribe man wavers between concern and anger. He stops in his tracks. 

“What do you mean she’s gone?” his voice is deep when he responds. Aang just turns away from the older boy. Sokka makes his way closer to the airbender, his feet stomping across the dock. 

“Aang!” he says again, trying to get a response from the airbender, “Where is my sister? Gone _where_?”

Before he can reach the tattooed boy, a small girl zips in front of him, her hands out to both sides. 

“Sokka,” Toph’s voice is hushed - a volume she rarely employs - and she cups her mouth to keep the sound from the other bender, “she left. She, uh, well. . .she’s taken a second field trip with Sparky.”

Toph feels the change in Aang’s heartbeat and realizes he heard her despite her efforts. 

“Left? With _Zuko_?” Suki asks as she catches up with Sokka, “where?”

“After Azula.” 

The small group turns their eyes to the Avatar as he finally speaks. His gray eyes are still cast down as he faces them. 

“What? Why aren’t we going after them?” Sokka waves his arms in the air for emphasis, “Azula is crazy, and she already tried to kill Katara once!”

“Because it is not our place,” The Dragon of the West imparts the wisdom to the young war heroes as he approaches them, taking long strides away from the city and on to the dock, “You all must stay here to help rebuild after the attack, as we have all worked to rebuild the four nations after the war.” 

Aang averts his gaze from the older man, refusing to look at him. 

“But-” Sokka tries to argue, but Iroh continues. 

“My nephew and Master Katara can handle the mission they have undertaken,” he says, “but in the Fire Lord’s stead, we must do our part to protect this fragile peace we have known for such a short time.”

Aang’s knuckles turn white as he clutches his staff. He grinds his teeth before his emotions finally explode out of him.

“Was it you?” his normally gentle voice is callous as he lets the accusation fly. Three sets of eyes land on the Avatar. No one speaks. 

“Did you tell her to go with him?” he releases the second question with the same roughness.

“I assure you, young Avatar, that Master Katara made the decision for herself,” Iroh is unmoved by the young man’s ire, standing peacefully on the dock. 

Aang grimaces. He slams the end of his staff on the ground, activating his glider. He tries to lift off, but feels a tug on the wooden instrument that brings him back down to earth. 

“Not this time, Twinkletoes.” 

Toph’s voice is a surprise that shakes the young man from his anger. Her grip is firm on the glider, her sightless eyes somehow looking through him. She stands unyielding, an immovable stone, the glider a kite string between the two. 

“We have work to do,” she says to him finally. He hesitates, small aftershocks of anger still fluttering through his body. She continues to stare at him, hand gripping his glider like a shackle. Finally, he relents. She senses the change in his demeanor, and allows her small hand to slip from the wood.

“And you guys, too,” she says, flapping her now free hand at Sokka and Suki. 

“Let’s go,” she says before anyone can protest. She pulls Aang along by his shirt. His feet drag along the surface of the docks. Suki mimics the petite earthbender, also grabbing her male companion by his clothing and dragging him toward the set of soggy soldiers waiting at the other end of the harbor.

Iroh stays in his spot, watching the small group make their way over to the crew. He flips a white lotus tile in his fingers, nimbly passing it from knuckle to knuckle, before furtively tucking it into his sleeve. 

* * *

The shadow of an eagle hawk crosses the yellow sun as it soars across the sky. The creature’s call is the only sound aside from the rhythmic stomping of an ostrich horse dashing along an abandoned dirt road leading into the small coastal town. 

“Where are we?” Katara mutters, clinging timidly to Zuko’s tunic as the pair ride into the town’s square. Her voice sounds from underneath the hood she donned as they had approached the village. Zuko wore one to match. 

“The town of Mui Ne,” Zuko replies, “Uncle gave me a marked map, and it led us here. This is one of the Fire Nation’s smaller harbor towns. We’re supposed to be catching an Earth Kingdom ship here, since he didn’t think we should leave from the capitol harbor.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Katara says, “but why the Earth Kingdom?” Zuko shrugs, and the two descend into the same awkward silence that had plagued them throughout their hours-long journey to their current position. She sighs, and it turns into a yawn. She hasn't been awake this long since the roles were reversed, and Azula was chasing her along with the rest of her group.

"Hopefully we can get some rest on the ship," the firebender suppresses a yawn himself as he says it, “although. . .”

He pauses. The sound of children kicking a ball back and forth fills the moment. The ostrich horse gently saunters past families making deals on goods in the small marketplace. A mother sits in the shade of an awning with a toddler in her lap, both wearing little more than rags. A small bowl sits to her side, two copper pieces its only inhabitants.

“Although what?” Katara sounds crankier than she means to. She’s distracted by the impoverished family, taking in the sight of them as if she is memorizing the mother’s raggedy face, determined to return to this small town and help them on a day when she isn't tracking down deranged ex-royalty. 

“Well. . .” he squeaks the word out slowly, drawing out the vowel, “our seaward journey may not be the most comfortable.” 

Katara is sure she feels the bags under her tired eyes sink deeper into her skin. She rubs at them wearily. 

“Are you gonna elaborate on that?” she finally says, the grump settling into her voice as comfortably as she’d like to settle into a pile of koala sheep. 

“Well. . .” he starts again, “it’s not like we can just get on to a ship like normal right now. We have no idea if Azula and my father have forces all over the Fire Nation who could recognize us.” 

Zuko feels the heat of another heavy sigh on his back. 

“I guess it’s stealth again, huh?” she says, and Zuko is surprised to hear a bit of brightness return to her voice. She lets out a small snort. “Just like old times.”

“Right.” Katara doesn’t hear the small smile in the firebender’s soft grumble of a reply.

The ostrich horse comes to a stop. Zuko dismounts and offers his hand to the young woman still sitting in the saddle. She extends her arm, stopping midway, hesitating before finally sliding her fingers over his palm. With her feet on the ground, face to face with the firebender, she remembers Toph’s joke from the docks during their initial arrival just a day ago. The pleasant memory is replaced with a gulp. Zuko really was taller than she remembered. Katara lifts her chin to look up at his face, their hands still clasped together. His expression is tense and serious, as it often is, but under the darkness of the hood she sees something else flickering in the soft gold of his eyes.

The connection is quickly and unceremoniously severed as both teens rip their hands away from the other, now looking in opposite directions. Zuko looks up at a merchant’s sign, trying to whistle. Katara grabs for the ostrich horse’s reins. 

“We should get some supplies,” Zuko says quickly, trying to give the impression that his inspection of the shop’s placard was for a legitimate purpose, “I packed some, but this might be our last opportunity to get something fresh.”

Katara leads the feathered creature over to the stall, both hands clinging to its tether. She examines the various offerings. Mangoes, apples, dragonfruit, and papaya, which she turns her nose up at. It had been some time since she had allowed a fortune-teller to direct her every day minutiae, particularly in such a wrong direction. She releases her grasp on the ostrich horse to start plucking at the display of fruit, wiggling her fingers in anticipation. Her hand is almost touching a mango as she hears Zuko’s deep rasp.

“Can you take care of this?” he holds out two gold pieces to the waterbender, not looking at her. Instead, he turns his head from side to side, scanning the small gathering of townspeople in the square. She takes the gold pieces quickly, assuming he is on the lookout for potential robbers, or worse. He uses his now free hand to grab the ostrich horse’s reins from her, tugging them gently from her grasp, still searching the crowd. 

“Thanks, I’ll be right back,” she gets nothing but a quick glance from him as he leads the ostrich horse away. Katara stays silent as she watches him step into the town square, adjusting his hood, worry gnawing at her rib cage. She slowly turns on her heels, going back to her shopping. She tentatively pokes at the fruits, picking them up, turning them over in her hand. She considers purchasing extra with the money Zuko gave her to share with the impoverished mother she spotted on the way into town. She absent-mindedly haggles with the seller, giving in long before she should, finding it difficult to argue while also listening carefully for an imminent attack on the Fire Lord.

He pops up next to her as she packs her purchase in her satchel. She readies a bending stance, but eases when she recognizes the voice emanating from beneath the hood. 

“Let’s go, we have a boat to catch,” he says gruffly. He’s alone. There’s no large bird towing behind him. The ostrich horse has vanished. 

“But what happened to the-” she’s cut off before she can finish her question.

“It can’t come on the ship with us,” he replies plainly, taking the satchel of fruit from her grip, adding it to the load he took from the ostrich horse “I had to abandon it.” He motions at her to follow him, and the pair heads for the ships looming in the small harbor. 

Before leaving the square, Katara stops, taking one last look back at the shady spot under the awning that sheltered the small beggar family. Her eyes narrow as she finds the space empty. She begins to turn around to follow Zuko, disappointed, when she hears a familiar caw in the crowd. Trying to locate the source of the noise, she spots the ostrich horse. In the distance, she can just barely recognize the dirty face of its new rider. She feels the smile break across her face as a warm feeling spreads over her body. 

“Come on!” she hears Zuko’s voice calling to her, and she breaks her gaze away from the beggar mother and her new mount. She twists, ungluing her feet from their spot, and jogs to catch up with the firebender outside of the town square, still smiling. 

“Zu-” she stops before she finishes his name, remembering their mission and the endless possibilities of danger if they were to be discovered. Instead she trails behind the firebender as he strides ahead toward the wharf. She watches him as he paces ahead unadorned, humble in his simple cloak, no golden flame in his hair. She bites her bottom lip, realizing that her traveling companion prefers to conceal his identity in more ways than one. She allows him his secret, and hurries to catch up.

As they approach the shoreline, a crew of well-muscled men struggles to carry a load of cargo onto an Earth Kingdom freight. The two cloaked travelers duck behind the wall of a nearby shop to examine the scene unnoticed. A large pile of goods remains unloaded on the dock, including two large, intricately decorated vases. Zuko lightly touches Katara’s shoulder and points discreetly at the wares. 

“There,” he whispers, “I’m about to show you something I learned from Uncle.” She looks between the firebender and the pottery, quickly catching on.

“We’ll need a distraction,” she whispers back, pulling some water from its pouch, “and I’ve got an idea.” She waits for a beat, watching one of the hulking dockworkers closely. She keeps her eyes on him as she slowly trickles some of her bending water over the ground from their hiding spot to the dock. 

“Sorry innocent bystander guy,” she winces, and at the exact right moment turns the sheet of water to ice. As soon as his foot touches the frozen surface, it sends the stocky fellow sliding frantically, voice a spiral of confusion as he eventually lands in the cold ocean current. The rest of the laborers stop what they’re doing and rush to the edge of the dock, throwing their hands in the air and yelling at the man for his apparent ineptitude. 

“Now!” Katara whispers sharply as she grabs Zuko’s sleeve and drags him toward their ticket to the Earth Kingdom. 

* * *

Mai gives a heavy sigh as she carefully runs a brush of bright red paint over Ty Lee’s eyelids. She draws the lines with the same precision with which she throws her stilettos, leaning in close to finish filling in the color. The two girls share a tatami mat in one of the grand guest suites of the palace. Bright morning sunlight filters in, the rays breaking through the gaps in the crimson curtains draped from the large windows.

“We were only here a _day_ ,” she emphasizes the final syllable of her complaint as she sits back, admiring her work “and already we have disaster.” She dips the brush back into the paint. 

“I know, I was really looking forward to our beach day, too,” the disappointment in Ty Lee’s features is apparent even under the heavy makeup. Mai finishes painting her eyelids, leaving only her lips to be stained with the same brilliant crimson. She puts down her paintbrush. She’s never really believed in auras, but the emotion she can see on her girlfriend’s face makes her believe it may not be as pink as it should be today. There’s a swirl of anxiety in her energy, a worry and sadness stemming from the prior night’s violence. 

“Oh yeah, your opportunity to get ten more boyfriends,” the sullen girl’s flat delivery belies her intent to make the other girl laugh, trying to get back her cheer. Instead, Ty Lee gives a small scowl, sticking out her tongue. 

“Don’t be jealous,” her mouth curves into a sly smile before she stops, putting a finger to her bare lips.

“Oh hey, you forgot to do my lipstick,” she says. 

Mai leans over again, but doesn’t pick up the paintbrush. Instead, she brings her fully painted face to meet that of her fellow warrior.

“Oh, I guess I did,” she says quietly, closing her eyes before placing her lips on Ty Lee’s, “but you can have some of mine.”

Mai can’t tell if anything about Ty Lee’s aura has changed, but at least her cheeks are pink now. Satisfied, she resumes her painting. She delicately lifts Ty Lee's chin as she fills in the rest of the needed color, finishing her task.

“Come on,” she stands, offering her hand to the now fully-ready Kyoshi warrior, lifting her from the tatami mat, “let’s get started on our assignment. Maybe it won’t be super boring.”

Passersby gawk at the duo as they exit the palace grounds and enter the residential streets of the Fire Nation capital. Tales of the bravery of the Kyoshi Warriors and their role in ending the 100 years war got passed through cities and settlements of all sizes across all four nations, but most civilians had never seen them in all their regalia in person. Both warriors are unphased, dedicated to the mission given to them by their leader earlier that morning. Suki had directed them to patrol the streets to ensure the safety of the citizens of the Fire Nation, making sure to suss out any potential attackers and, if possible, locate clues as to how the initial plot was hatched. 

They start in the far corners of the city, nearest where many of the blasts had taken place. The two girls pass by scorched houses, crumbled shopfronts, and latched windows and doors. The fires had spread quickly, although teams of waterbenders visiting from the north for the solstice festival had quickly launched themselves into action to put them out after the blasts. Haggard looking families work together to clean up the remnants of the lives they had struggled to scrape together. Singed flyers advertising the solstice festivities lay useless in the street.

Ty Lee and Mai keep their vision sharp, checking around dark corners, watching anyone who appears suspicious. They check near various piles of wreckage for clues and find nothing but remnants of blasting jelly. They try to find criminality in the faces of the men and women they pass, but most are just trying to get to their destinations unbothered. Many carry large bundles of material or equipment. The sun rises higher and higher in the sky.

“I miss the palanquin,” Mai groans, stopping to lean against a wall, “we’ve been patrolling for hours.”

“My feet hurt,” Ty Lee joins in on the complaining, but her voice is still cheery. Instead of leaning against the wall, she flips over, walking on her hands. The deep green cloth of her Kyoshi warrior dress stays put, held up by the stiff steel of its armor covering. Her long, russet braid dangles down to the ground as she looks at her now upside-down companion. 

“It’s getting kind of late, let’s head back toward the palace,” she suggests, “we’ll do a final sweep of the nobles’ houses. Maybe we can even check in on your family.”

“Mm, yeah, I guess we could do that,” the black-haired girl murmurs, though her expression indicates no excitement at the prospect. In lieu of handholding, she grasps the acrobat’s ankle as the two march mismatched back toward the Fire Nation palace.

The transition from abjection to abundance is a stark one. The warriors pass through a single gate to reach the noblemans’ dwellings, the alabaster stone a brilliant white in the sunlight. Ty Lee rights herself as they reach the new neighborhood.

The upper class streets are much less crowded, with only a few highly decorated residents riding or sauntering along the paved streets. Servants carry palanquins through the square. Mai sighs watching them. Ty Lee takes her hand and leads her down the main thoroughfare. She begins giggling as they go. 

"Come on, I have another idea," she says playfully, tugging the taller girl along, “Suki said we had to patrol, but that doesn’t mean we can’t treat it like a date!” 

She continues pulling her toward a street vendor selling a variety of sweets. 

“One bag of fire gummies, please!” Ty Lee orders the candies with a sweetness that could rival the vendor’s entire collection of wares. The seller obliges, handing a bag to the young warrior. She takes a few of the gummies in her hand and pops them into her painted mouth as she rejoins Mai. She offers the bag to her counterpart with a beaming smile. The gloomy girl feels her own mouth betraying her, the sides curling up as she takes a few of the treats from the sack. They link arms as they walk further into the center of the nobles' district.

Just outside the square, the pair spot a small cluster of people crowding around a grand fountain that marks the center of the upper class neighborhood. A mixture of whispers, gasps, and laughter radiates from the group. Mai drops the second handful of fire gummies she had grabbed back into the bag, her eyes piercing from beneath her heavy bangs.. Ty Lee, still chewing on some of the spicy confections, swallows hard. She squeezes Mai’s arm and turns toward her. Gold meets gray as their eyes connect, both containing the same concern. They pick up the pace as they approach the congregation. 

Both girls push through the crowd, trying to reach the front and the source of the commotion. Finally, they see it. A bold crimson banner hangs from the second tier of the fountain. It’s neatly embroidered with gold characters. The girls read it in silent unison, then sharing a gasp.

**_FIRE LORD ZUKO IS ILLEGITIMATE. THE NEW OZAI SOCIETY WILL RESTORE THE GLORY OF THE FIRE NATION. WE WILL NOT BE REPLACED._ **

The people in the crowd cry out, startled by the flash of two blades that have snapped from Mai’s wrists. They sink into the stone of the fountain where the banner is hung. The emblazoned words collapse in on themselves as the cloth floats ominously into the waiting water below. The people disperse, with only a few staying behind as the banner lays limp at the fountain's bottom, a piece of it just barely hanging over the side like a dead fish.

“So much for the date idea,” Ty Lee laments as the two warriors approach the fountain to extricate the evidence they'd stumbled upon, but she quickly gathers her resolve, “let’s get this to the others.” 

* * *

Zuko and Katara huddle together between the enormous crates of cargo, hidden from view in the windowless lower decks of the Earth Kingdom freight. The hold is tightly packed, leaving little room for the two benders. A tiny flame erupts from the Fire Lord’s index finger like a candle, barely illuminating the scroll they are both trying to read. Zuko had discovered the letter in his pack, along with two small satchels, both tied with only a thin leather cord. One bears a small gold pendant inscribed with the symbol of the Fire Nation, the other adorned with a small silver pendant bearing the Water Tribe seal. 

He recognizes his Uncle’s writing and rolls his eyes. Katara starts to read the letter aloud.

_“To my dearest nephew and Master Katara,_

_If you have found this letter, you must be on your way to the Earth Kingdom by now. When you get to your destination, you must seek out the Rose Inn. There you will find a White Lotus agent who will accompany you on your journey. I’m sure you will find them to be very helpful in your search for Ozai and Azula._

_I’ve also packed two small bags for each of you. I don’t think you will have trouble figuring out which one is which.”_

“He definitely laughed when he wrote that,” Zuko interrupts Katara’s reading. She responds with an exaggerated nod of her head and silent chuckle as she continues reading.

_“I believe these items will aid you in your efforts. You will know when they will be needed. Master Katara, my apologies that we did not get to spend more time practicing Pai Sho. Zuko, remember our training sessions. I wish you both well, and I know you will do whatever it takes to protect the harmony of the Four Nations. The Avatar, your friends, and I will maintain the peace in the Fire Nation until you return._

_Good luck._

_-Iroh"_

Katara stops for a moment, but then notices a small line of text at the very bottom of the page. 

“Oh wait, there’s more here,” she snorts before reciting the last bit of writing, annunciating each word. 

_“PS - There is nothing secret about this letter, Zuko. You should just burn it after you read it so you don’t get discovered.”_

She rolls the parchment back up and hands it to Zuko, her eyebrow raised. She's grateful for the stifled laugh trying to erupt from her lungs as it effectively stamped out the guilt that stirred in her upon Iroh's mention of Aang. It becomes harder to contain as she watches the young man inspect the document anyway, raveling and unraveling it again. Finally satisfied, he asks Katara for her permission with a look. Seeing her nod of approval, he ignites the dry parchment, quickly turning it to ash. 

They both grab for the small satchels, opening them in tandem. Zuko opens his one-handed, still providing the small light source for the two of them. Inside he finds an ornate gold comb. Both sides are intricately carved with stone in-lays in the shape of a flame. Alongside it is a Pai Sho tile. Expecting a white lotus, he picks it up and examines it in the dim light of his singular flame. His one eyebrow furrows against his scar as he instead finds the tile is engraved with a red chrysanthemum. He puts the tile back in the bag, puzzled.

He hears Katara’s voice as she has begun reading something else that she pulled from her own knapsack.

“Made in Earth Kingdom?” befuddlement marks each word as she reads from the edge of the blade she holds in her hands. Zuko snaps to attention, seeing his knife in her hands. Now even more confused, he says the only thing that comes to his mind.

“Read the other side.”

“Never give up without a fight. I wonder what I’m supposed to do with this?” she asks, baffled by the weapon in her hands. Zuko hesitates before responding, his heart beating quickly. His initial shock over hearing Katara read from his dagger, something his uncle had once gifted to him, was now replaced with uncertainty as he debated whether or not to reveal the blade’s true owner. 

Katara makes the decision for him. 

“How did you know to read the other side?” she asks suddenly. Zuko rubs the back of his neck. 

“Uh, well,” he cuts his eyes over to one side as he answers, “that dagger is mine.” 

Katara immediately sheathes the blade, embarrassment replacing the oxygen in her lungs. She holds the ivory dagger out to the firebender. He doesn’t take it.

“No, no,” he waves his unlit hand, “keep it. Clearly you’re supposed to have it for some reason.”

She slowly retracts her arm and gingerly drops the weapon back into her pack. She goes digging into the cloth again, this time only pulling out a small round item - another Pai Sho tile. Zuko leans forward to get a better look at the design. The lacquered wood contains a white lily in its center. He’s slightly relieved to find that the waterbender is just as confused by the tile as he is. She inspects it intently before finally shrugging and dropping it back in its pouch.

The two sit silently in the firebent candlelight for a few moments, each pondering their set of items. Finally, Katara yawns, again rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes. 

“Here,” Zuko finally scrapes out of his throat, “let’s eat something. What did you get at the market?” He digs into the bag of fruit they had purchased earlier and produces two apples. He tosses one to Katara, who catches it with a friendly smile. She crunches into the flesh of the fruit hungrily, not realizing until it’s sugar reaches her tongue how long it had been since she had eaten. It doesn’t take long for the pair to finish their small meal, both casually tossing the cores back into the bag so as not to leave a trace of their unauthorized presence on the traveling vessel.

This time Katara stretches, lifting her arms above her head as she takes a deep breath, eyes closed. She lays back on the hard wood of the ship’s hull, keeping her eyes closed. Another yawn escapes her before she cracks one eye open. In her limited vision, she sees Zuko scrutinizing a Pai Sho tile of his own, and can just make out the engraving.

She tries to remember Iroh’s Pai Sho lesson and what he told her about the red chrysanthemum, but fatigue overcomes her memory. Feeling her eyelids grow heavy and her inhibitions light, she reaches out to the firebender. 

“Goodnight Zuko,” she says sleepily as she leans over, grabbing his illuminated hand and pulling it toward her face. He jumps at the sudden contact, his golden eyes growing wide as she blows out the flame on his finger. 

Katara closes her eyes to sleep, leaving the Fire Lord bewildered in the dark.

* * *

The Earth Kingdom town is quiet as the night settles in. Crickets hide in the dewy grass, providing music for the glow flies that dance across the amethyst horizon. Two cloaked figures try to blend in with a throng of sturdy dockworkers making their way into the nearly desolate streets. The men break the relative silence, blowing off steam after their long journey from the Fire Nation port of Mui Ne, now finished with their laboring. Some head into the back streets of the modest hamlet, leaving their colleagues behind to seek a warm bed and even warmer welcome from their wives and children. The rest head directly toward one of the larger buildings tucked directly in the center of the township, ready to taste the burn of a full glass of soju. 

The building stands three stories. Many of the windows are still illuminated, even at this late hour. A metal sign bearing a red rose creaks as it swings on its rusted hinges. The delicate blooms embroidered on the curtain wafting at the entrance are a stark contrast to the sounds emerging from the establishment. Still, the two hooded figures follow the rest of the remaining crewmen into the velvety glow of the hanging lanterns.

“This has to be it, right?” Zuko scans the room before chancing the opportunity to lift his hood. Assessing the space to be assassin-free, he lifts the covering from his head, his silky black strands now the only things falling in front of his face. 

“He did say the Rose Inn and there seems to be roses all over the place here,” Katara responds, following his lead and also lifting her own hood. She looks around self-consciously, not noticing how her companion takes in the sight of her. Tables of men and women of all shapes and sizes are scattered around the first floor of the inn, a long oaken bar at the far end of the room. Some of the patrons enjoy hot meals, while others consume steaming alcoholic beverages. She’s unsure how much time they have until the inevitable brawl breaks out.

“So who are we looking for?” She turns back to her companion as she murmurs the question, hoping to keep a low profile. 

“I have no idea,” Zuko shrugs as he steps forward toward the bar, “but they better get here soon if we’re ever going to catch Ozai and my sister.” Katara picks up her feet to follow him. 

“Hey!’ they hear a crusty voice from behind the large wooden slab as they approach. “Hey you!” 

Both benders freeze, the only movement the increasing pace of their breathing. Katara brings a hand up to her brow as she slowly turns to face the old bartender as she wipes down her counter.

“You haven’t ordered anything yet, get over here!” the elderly woman calls to the pair, beckoning them to have a seat with a shriveled hand. They both release the breath they had been holding. Katara rubs at her temples as she pulls up a stool. Zuko takes the seat next to her. 

“So, what will it be?” the old lady croaks, leaning on a rickety elbow. The young pair glances at each other, but Zuko answers first. 

“Do you have any spiced tea?” he asks politely. The woman frowns deeply, expecting the extra coin brought by an order of alcohol, but utters a surly affirmation. She speaks again, still addressing the firebender.

“And what will you be ordering for your girlfriend?” she attempts to fix her dour face as she poses the question, but is unsuccessful. 

Katara immediately opens her mouth to protest, but the voice she hears isn’t hers. The first sound that reaches her ears is a deep, throaty laugh. The noise is coming from behind them, and both teens spin around on their stools to find its source.

The woman continues laughing, bringing her hand up to her full, maroon-colored lips. Only one of her eyes is visible, the other hidden behind a shock of jet black hair. The rest of the strands are tied into a top-knot, secured with the skull of some small, unfortunate critter. Her dark tunic is cut off at the sleeves, highlighting the twin dragons inked into her toned upper arms. 

When she finally stops laughing, she gives a few small claps as she strides closer to the bar. 

“That is just too good,” she declares through a smirk. Zuko grabs the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, a groan escaping his lips.

“It’s great to see you too, June.”


	5. Tangles

The simple wooden table is tucked underneath the stairs of the inn, positioned away from most of the other patrons. An empty teacup, a steaming carafe of sake, and half a glass of lychee juice are laid out in a triangular pattern on its surface, each directly in front of its drinker. One of the inn workers jogs by, dropping a plate of bean curd puffs as they pass. Each of the table’s occupants reaches for one of the steaming morsels. 

“So, you’re the one who is supposed to go with us?” Katara asks, trying to hide that there’s still bean curd rolling around in her jaws. Her earlier apple had long been gone from her stomach, and the delightful crunch of the newly delivered snack competed with her curiosity. 

June nods, her focus on the steaming stream of sake pouring into her glass. 

“Prince pouty,” she pauses, flicking her eyes at Zuko, “Excuse me, I mean Fire Lord Pouty’s creepy uncle roped me into it.” As soon as he recovers from his scowl, his reply is a hiss.

“Keep your voice down!” 

June rolls her one visible eye. 

“Relax, Pouty, this is a White Lotus outpost. We’re safe here,” she’s calm and collected as she throws the sake down her throat, chasing it with one of the mung bean snacks, “besides, I definitely didn’t say it loud enough for anyone to hear.”

Sensing continued tension between her two companions, Katara breaks in with another question. 

“But you’re a bounty hunter,” she starts, “why work for the Order of the White Lotus?”

June smirks as she kicks back, propping her boots up on the table. She laces her fingers behind her head, her elbows fanning out behind her long black hair like an elaborate headpiece. 

“I made plenty of money as a bounty hunter during the war,” she starts her explanation, the smirk not leaving her lips, “but I’m making more now. What is it they say? The White Lotus opens wide to those who know her secrets? Yeah, with me they were talking about the coffers.”

Zuko and Katara share a vexed glance across the table. 

“So, we gotta go after your crazy sister and awful dad, huh?” she says casually, closing her eyes. A loud snap sounds from her elbow joint as she says it, and she cracks the other as punctuation. 

“That’s why we’re here, yeah,” Zuko says, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Well, what do you have for Nyla?” June responds. Katara turns her attention to the firebender, waiting for his response. A moment passes before she hears him.

“Nothing,” his tone is defeated and low, and his loose hair falls over his eyes as he points them toward the old wooden floorboards of the inn. The bounty hunter’s one visible eye pops back open. She starts to respond when Zuko speaks again. 

“Wait-” he suddenly bends over, digging in his pack like an elephant rat foraging for food. The soft glow of the inn reflects off of the small golden pendant as Zuko sets the black pouch on the table. He unties the cord in one swift movement and reveals the ornate comb. 

“This,” he says, holding the shining metal object out to June, determination replacing defeat in his demeanor. She puts her glass of sake down to inspect the item. Katara also peers at the object, paying special attention to the glittering, flame-shaped pearl in-lays. 

June whistles a couple of tones before replying. 

“Now that’s a nice piece, they really don’t spare any expense for you royals do they,” she takes the comb from him, holding it up to her face to get a closer look at the fine detailing, “this definitely looks like something I’d have taken from the stash of some of my bounties.”

“I think it’s Azula’s” Zuko responds, not reacting to June’s comments. He hasn’t removed his gaze from the shimmering implement. 

“Well then,” June stands up as she finishes the last of her sake directly from the carafe, slamming the unpolished clay vessel on to the table, “what are we waiting for?”

* * *

  
  


The sparrowkeets sing a song that echoes through the garden. Azula listens closely to their serene calls as smooth metal teeth scrape against her scalp. They glide through her hair, creating thin black streams where a river once was. A soft hand smooths over her tresses, following the tributaries carved by the comb. She closes her golden eyes as she relishes the repeated sensation, the delicate scratching over and over again. Outlines of wafting leaves dance over her eyelids like a shadow play. 

“You have such beautiful hair, Azula,” the voice is as silky as her strands. It’s tone fills the princess with a tender warmth, so different from the searing fire she summons in her training at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. Her lips form a genuine smile as she slowly opens her eyes again.

Ursa looks down at her daughter, hand smoothing over her hair as she runs the comb through it. She matches her smile, love and admiration burning brightly in her own gilded irises. The princess relaxes into her mother’s touch, enjoying the shady breeze blowing across the turtleduck pond. The force shakes additional leaves from the tree the pair are seated under. They float gently down from their branches at first, only to be violently knocked away by a sudden gale. 

The musical tones of the sparrowkeets is replaced with a crash that sounds loudly across the garden, followed swiftly by a crack of lightning spreading across the sky like a blue vein. Looming gray storm clouds form instantly. 

Ursa continues to smile at her daughter, running the comb and her fingers through her splayed strands, unfazed by the sudden change in their surroundings. Her face is still tranquil as the pleasant feeling of the light scrape of the comb is replaced by a violent tug. The gilded comb struggles, unable to finish its journey, blocked by a tangle. 

Lightning cracks behind Ursa again, and Azula remains paralyzed as she watches a colossal beast start to descend from the clouds. Her mother frowns deeply, trying to work her way through the snag in her daughter’s hair. Azula digs her sharp nails into the grass as Ursa continues to tug at her charcoal locks. She feels the pain in her scalp from the struggle, but her vision is trained only on the monster emerging from the crackling electricity above them. 

“Azula,” the voice emanates from the flying menace, echoing from its coils. It’s close enough that she can see the reflection of the continued flashes of lightning in its baneful horns and teeth. 

Ursa picks up the tangled mess of hair, still trying to run the comb through it. The matted fibers only grow, and she looks at her daughter with a mournful expression. Behind her, the blue dragon circles faster, still calling the princess’s name.

“Azula!” it booms louder. The voice is powerful and authoritative. She has heard her name said in this way before. Tears begin to form in her eyes as she watches the dragon continue to come closer and closer. It opens its jaws wide as it descends, continuing to roar her name in the familiar voice. She can see its thin slit of a pupil narrow as it flies close enough to encase her and Ursa into its terrifying maw. 

“AZULA!” it booms one more time, and she feels her hair rip from her mother’s grasp, tearing as she finally launches up to a sitting position. Behind her she hears a snap.

She places her hand on bare earth to turn around and face the sound, seeing only a plain boot on the ground, parts of a broken twig on either side. The boot is illuminated by a small campfire, the rest of the world an array of shadows. She follows the length of the boot up to find a leg, and a leg attached to a body. The sharp fangs of the blue dragon have been replaced, her mother vanished. Now there is only the shadow of a tall, imposing man. 

Ozai scoffs, the waning flames of the fire barely illuminating his face. 

“Azula!” he says her name again, disdain motivating his lips. She only looks up at him for a moment, her eyes unfocused. When she looks at the ground again, she sees an indentation in the dirt beside her bedroll that perfectly matches her fingernails. 

“We have to  _ move _ , Azula,” the former ruler emphasizes the words, “ _ get up _ .”

The young girl rubs her forehead as she wordlessly reaches for her bag. She pulls out a simple flask, and quickly takes a sip of the familiar liquid contained within it. 

She replaces the cap as she responds, her heart rate slowing to a steady pace.

“Yes, Father,” she says evenly as she picks herself up from her ground. She meticulously dusts off her simple garments. Her hair falls out of her haphazard top-knot in large chunks as she does so. She stops to take a deep breath before fixing the tresses back into their assigned place, trying to abate the blinding anger that threatens to overtake her. 

“We have only a few more hours to travel before we reach Taku,” Ozai says into the dark. He has also wrangled his messy strands into a stringy ponytail. “And when we get there, I will finally get my power back.”

With the visions of her mother now gone completely, Azula picks up a branch from the campfire as it descends into a smoldering pile of coals. She lights the end of the torch while she places her humble traveling pack into the saddle atop the waiting eelhound. She climbs on to the reptilian creature, frowning as she hears Ozai’s voice again. 

“And then we’ll take back what’s rightfully ours.” 

* * *

The eyeless mammal stomps toward the trio, its large nostrils expanding as it sucks in the scent of the comb. 

“Good girl, Nyla,” June coos at the monstrous blind beast, placing her hands on the shirshu’s snout, “this is so much better than that sweaty sandal he made you smell the last time.” She shoots a mischievous look at Zuko, and catches a glimpse of Katara snickering as he frowns next to her. 

“You guys both know how this works,” her tone shifts as she addresses her two companions, “get up in the saddle and hold on tight, I think she’s picking up the scent.”

Zuko is the first to lift himself on to the animal. Katara goes next, placing herself behind the firebender as if they were back on the ostrich horse, riding out of the Fire Nation capitol. She again holds on to the firebender with as little contact as possible, wishing Nyla’s reins were a bit longer. 

The shirshu continues sniffing the air, pointing its nose in multiple different directions before finally deciding on one. Seeing the signal, June also leaps onto the animal’s back, grabbing her whip from its holster and holding tight to the reins with her other hand. She snaps the whip. Nyla catapults herself into the dark forest. 

The force of the sudden movement lifts Katara from her spot at the back of the saddle, and she lets out a sharp gasp as she feels the tug of gravity on her body. Instead of the expected impact with the ground, she feels a pull from the opposite direction. She’s sitting upright again in an instant, the pressure on her tunic removed just as quickly. The only thing she sees is Zuko turning from her, putting his arm back into place from where he had held her. Katara can feel the heat in her cheeks as she struggles for a response, eventually deciding to go with sarcasm. 

“Thanks for the assist - again,” the waterbender tries to transfer her embarrassment to Zuko, and is successful in doing so. Recalling the first time they had both been passengers on the enormous creature, enough blood rushes to the firebender’s cheeks he almost loses his grip on the shirshu himself. 

Hearing the exchange, June begins her smug laughter again. 

“You really should hold on a little tighter, Katara,” she calls as she cracks the whip one more time, urging Nyla to run even faster into the enveloping twilight. 

As the group picks up speed, Zuko’s lack of blood is joined by a lack of breath as he feels hesitant hands shyly wrap around his midsection.

* * *

The air is crisp and moist on the towering plateaus of the mountainous terrain. Morning mist is still rising from the dewy grass as a large reptile races up the side of the cliffs. 

The gray cat watches the creature with piqued interest, her tail flicking back and forth. Behind the fluffy ball of curiosity, an old woman collects flowers in her palms. She moves slowly through the space, thinking carefully about each plume she plucks. 

The cat meows once, trying to get her elderly owner’s attention. The woman just keeps adding to her collection of flowers, humming a little ditty. The reptilian creature rapidly approaches their outpost, its legs kicking up dust as it sprints over the rocky territory. Soon, its pounding claws start to vibrate the ground. 

The cat leaps from its position and strides over to her caretaker, now meowing more insistently. She brushes her body against the woman’s legs. 

“Oh, yes,” the woman finally acknowledges her petite partner, “what is it Miyuki? You’ve already had your breakfast.”

Miyuki continues to meow, now stopped and facing the entrance to their mountaintop institute. A hiss escapes her tiny jaws as the giant eelhound comes bounding up the steps. 

“I see,” the old woman says, “so we have more visitors.” She stands still and proud as the enormous beast clears the last steps to the entrance. 

Azula leaps off of the eelhound’s back, landing directly in front of the herbalist. She towers over the diminutive lady, looking down at her as she speaks.

“Yes, and we hope you will be very hospitable,” her voice is the cold, calculated sound she employed on Fire Nation war ships to intimidate men twice her age. The old woman is unfazed, still clutching her flowers and offering a warm smile. Miyuki continues hissing, her gray fur standing on end, as Ozai also dismounts the eelhound, approaching her master behind the princess.

“You’re going to create a remedy for me,” he states plainly, “to bring back my firebending.”

The woman raises a gray eyebrow at the disgraced former Fire Lord’s declaration. She doesn’t move from her spot. 

“Oh, and before you ask,” Azula sets a blazing blue fire in both hands as she narrows her eyes at the small elderly woman, “I still have mine.”

The old woman’s expression hardens as she searches Azula’s features, looking up at the firebender with no fear. 

“I’ve only ever read about this remedy you speak of,” she starts, not turning her face away from the princess, “I can make no guarantees.”

“Well then,” Ozai places his hand on his daughter’s shoulder as he also stands glowering over the herbalist, Azula’s blue fire still burning bright as they both smile menacingly at the old woman “neither can we.”

* * *

“So the attackers are still here,” Sokka says the words seriously, but he has donned his comical detective gear for his examination of the crimson banner discovered by Mai and Ty Lee. 

The group is together in one of the large meeting rooms of the Fire Nation palace. The only member missing is Iroh. The hideous banner lays in the center of their huddle. 

“Where did you say you found this?” the young water tribe man asks, leaning in close to the fabric and using his magnifying glass to inspect the fibers. 

“In the noble’s quarter, at the fountain,” Ty Lee pipes up.

“Well, it  _ is _ wet,” Sokka responds, putting his fingers to his chin. The rest of the room groans. 

“You didn’t see who put it up?” Aang poses the inquiry to the two Fire Nation girls, who both shake their heads despairingly. 

“They’re trying to recruit more people into their ranks,” Toph asserts, standing as she speaks, “and they are correctly assuming that Fire Nation nobles will be more susceptible to their message.”

The group turns their attention to the earthbender, surprise in all of their faces. She looks incensed as she continues speaking.

“I can’t exactly see your faces, but why are all of you acting like I wouldn’t know about this?” she says, frustration entering her voice, “I grew up in a household just like this. Do you think Earth Kingdom nobles are any different from Fire Nation nobles? They’re all just terrified of losing their status and wealth.”

Sokka grumbles something about his hat and his investigation as he sits down to continue listening to the younger girl, crossing his arms with a huff. 

“Well, I did notice that basically none of the nobles’ houses were targeted in the attacks,” Ty Lee offers the information tentatively, “and the reception of the banner in the crowd seemed to be mixed, unfortunately.”

Mai nods to emphasize the other girl’s point. 

“See?” Toph says, not even attempting irony.

“This is bad,” Aang puts his head in his hands, “they’re trying to poison the will of this entire nation.” He’s surprised when he feels a small hand on his shoulder, looking up to see the earthbender at his side. 

“And we just got them to stop being creeps,” Suki chimes in, ending her observation with a sigh. Mai and Ty Lee share an uncomfortable glance. Seeing their reaction, Suki quickly offers an apology. 

“No offense, it was. . .complicated with you guys” she says, “you’re both valued members of the Kyoshi warriors now.”

“Actually,” Sokka draws out the word as he finishes his thought along with it, “that might help us here. Mai, Ty Lee, your families are part of the Fire Nation nobility.” He stops, waiting for the others to board his train of thought. 

“My family isn’t in the Fire Nation right now, they’re off traveling in the Earth Kingdom,” Ty Lee hops on first, “they actually met up with some wandering nomads and have started performing music with them. They sing this really great song about a secret tunnel!”

Sokka slaps his forehead as the group turns their attention to the more somber of the two girls. Mai sits calmly, her face a blank slate. 

“You want me to spy on my own family?” Mai’s voice is even more low and monotone than normal as she peers out at her fellow warriors from under her heavy bangs. 

“Well, it would certainly help us gain some information on what’s going on,” Aang responds, his expression unsure. The dark haired girl eyes him from across the deep red banner for a moment. She sighs deeply before replying. 

“Ok, sure,” she shrugs before throwing up her hands, “I guess that sounds interesting enough.” 

* * *

Azula sits upright amongst the colorful flora of the institute, her face matching the smooth stone bench she is seated on. She watches the gray cat as it watches her, their matching yellow eyes meeting in a staring match. Ozai paces anxiously, striding back and forth between tables and shelves of medicines, their vials glittering in the afternoon rays of the sun. Azula hisses at Miyuki, causing the feline to startle, losing the match. She sneers at the feline before rising to inspect the potions. 

“It’s ready,” the old woman appears suddenly, a small vial containing a dark green liquid in her hand. Ozai stops, mesmerized by the bilious fluid in the herbalist’s grasp, staring at it with intense anticipation. Azula continues studying the other concoctions nonchalantly. She finally turns around to see her father snatch the vial from the herbalist’s grasp. 

“Give that to me!”

He hastily rips the cork from the top and sends the liquid straight down his gullet. Within an instant, Ozai’s veins bulge underneath his skin. The former Fire Lord gasps, sputtering. He doubles over, his muscles spasming violently. As fire replaces blood, he lets out a wild scream. He continues to convulse, falling to his knees. He can barely feel the cool stone on his palms as he splays out on all fours, sweat dripping from his forehead. Azula and the herbalist watch unmoved as the struggles and writhes. 

“I can feel it,” he mutters between sluggish breaths, “yes, I can  _ feel  _ it.” 

His muscles stop spasming. His breathing returns to normal. Ozai picks himself up from the moist earth. He wipes the sweat from his brow as his lips fix themselves into a devious grin. The grin cracks open to allow ominous laughter to escape. Ozai curls his fingers into fists as he releases the throaty sound, his chest heaving up and down. 

“ _ I am the Phoenix King! _ ” he declares dramatically, swirling his body around to release his fist into the sky, “Now, I am unstoppable!” 

Sparks spit from his knuckles, never forming a flame. 

Ozai’s eyes bulge with fury, feeling the heat in his veins cooling. He punches at the air again, generating only a small puff of smoke. He continues throwing his fists into the cool mountain air, nothing emanating from his gestures.  He releases an embittered roar on his final attempt before turning his attention to the diminutive herbalist. 

“You-” he starts to stomp toward the elderly woman, his violent thoughts reflected in his steps, “you put me through this for. . .for. . .for  _ nothing _ ! You incompetent-”

“I told you there were no guarantees,” she interrupts him, undaunted, “My herbal remedies cannot fix a spiritual problem.”

“I can guarantee that you will no longer be creating remedies for anything, you filthy old hag,” Ozai spews, “Azula!” 

Hearing the order, Azula tries to will her body to step toward the old woman, but the herbalist has been replaced with the face of the blue dragon. It growls at the princess, its yellow eyes piercing. Instead of taking a step forward, she takes a step back, placing both palms to her ears, trying to suppress the sound of its snapping jaws. She shakes her head vigorously. 

“Azula, now!” Ozai bellows, “what is wrong with you? Attack  _ now _ .”

She hears her father’s booming voice again and snaps to attention. Her breath is still erratic, but she dutifully generates her searing blue flames, now able to advance on the old woman in the blue dragon’s absence. Before she can set the defiant herbalist ablaze, she feels pain cross her forearm in three jagged lines. Azula’s flame extinguishes as Miyuki howls, landing between her master and the younger girl. The tiny cat continues yowling at the two intruders. Azula smirks at her puny foe.

“Ready to die for your master, little one?” Azula points her middle and index fingers on both hands and makes an arc in the air. Energy crackles around her. Ozai watches his daughter with pride and impatience as hot blue lightning begins to form in her grasp. 

Neither of them notice the bulbous formation of water that snakes around her ankle, ripping her from her stance. Azula’s face collides with the ground, generating a loud thump. She recovers quickly, whipping her head around to see an enormous, eyeless creature grind to a halt. A fiercely angry waterbender jumps down from the creature’s back, water slung around her shoulders like a snake.

The two girls face each other down for a moment. Azula feels a bead of sweat trickle down her face, becoming enraged at its presence. She shrieks as she sends a burst of flames at Katara, the sound turning into a growl as she watches them collide with a wall of orange fire. When the smoke clears, Azula sees Zuko standing in front of the water tribe girl. 

“It’s over, Azula,” both of his fists are facing his sister, one is raised near his ear, the other out in front of him. His stance is strong and ready. Behind him is the waterbender, still ready to strike at any moment. Azula doesn’t recognize the woman in the dark clothing, still mounted on the enormous beast, but pays her little mind. Her focus is solely on her brother, and the peasant he saw fit to bring with him to chase her again. 

She begins to laugh. 

“How cute, Zuzu!” she taunts the older boy, “you actually  _ did  _ bring your little water tribe peasant with you. And apparently you have a new pet, too.” 

“Hard to beat you down all the way from the Fire Nation!” Katara shouts. Her voice is coarse as the threat snaps out of her. 

The ex-princess lets out her deranged laughter once more, throwing her head back confidently. 

“Why, I would just be  _ shocked _ if you were to defeat me,” the words are dripping with condescension, “my heart might just stop. What about  _ you _ , Zuzu?”

Zuko takes a breath to generate a fire blast, but stops as water rushes past his ear, splashing into Azula with enough force to knock her off her feet. He turns to see Katara readying another water whip. He reacts just in time to stop a blast of fire from the drenched princess, sending a fireball her way as a counterattack. She jumps to avoid it. She returns fire while airborne, launching balls of fire toward both Katara and Zuko. 

As soon as Azula lands, she sees a piercing tongue hurtling toward her. She leaps again to narrowly avoid the attack, watching as the ferocious-looking woman atop the enormous creature cracks her whip again. The woman’s sights are now set on Ozai, who stands ready to face her. The herbalist picks up Miyuki, quickly scurrying out of the line of fire.

Nyla crashes into a table of jars and vials, sending them flying. They smash on to the stones below, forming a field of tinctures and shards. Azula races after the shirshu, dodging continued attacks from Zuko and Katara. 

June cracks her whip again, causing Nyla to release her paralyzing tongue once more. It hurdles toward Ozai, who easily moves out of the way. The bounty hunter leaps off of her mount, sending her whip careening toward her prey. He snatches it out of the air, pulling the weapon toward him and his foe off balance. Before he can strike, water pools around his arms, freezing them in place. The ice is quickly melted by the heat of blue flames, but June has already snatched her whip back from the former Fire Lord’s clutches. 

Azula leaps again, landing between them, readying an attack on the bounty hunter. Katara and Zuko join her, placing their bodies between the fire princess and their ally. The group is at a stand still, facing off in silence, all deciding on their next move. 

Behind the trio, Azula watches the shirshu take the scent of the broken vials in through its pulsating nostrils, realizing the creature’s role in their discovery at the remote mountaintop location. In an instant, she sends a blast of fire at the furry beast, and Nyla shrieks as her fur ignites. She lifts up on her hind legs and begins running furiously around the space, running into the large stone pillars. 

Zuko punches a fireball at Ozai and Azula, giving cover for June to sprint toward her companion. Azula pulls her father out of the way of the blast, slicing the air with a kick that sends an arc of fire back at her brother. In the same motion, she sends flames barreling toward the broken wooden tables surrounding the graveyard of ointments and vials. They wood ignites, creating a thick barrier of smoke. 

“Go heal Nyla!” Zuko yells at Katara elevating his voice above the sound of the worsening inferno. The waterbender hesitates, not immediately heeding the order. Zuko tries again. 

“Please, quickly, before she takes down every pillar in this place!”

Katara just barely hears him over the sounds of tumbling stones. She can just make out June still trying to corral the panicked shirshu, struggling to hold on as the creature continues slamming into the walls. When she looks back, Zuko has already taken off toward the billowing smoke. Ignoring her instinct to follow him, she instead chases after Nyla and her handler. 

The raging fire spreads to the hanging vines in the institute, increasing the amount of smoke rising into the air. Azula and Ozai sprint out of the area, trying to locate the giant eelhound they rode in on. Under cover of the thick haze, Azula stops suddenly in front of a shelf of still intact vials she had inspected earlier. She plucks one from its spot and slips it into her sleeve. The bottle is just tucked away as Zuko comes barreling out of the black clouds, a forceful cry escaping his lungs as he furiously kicks fire at his sister before he lands. 

She is caught off guard, the flames singing her tunic as she moves to avoid them. Azula meets the ground again, this time her back falling hard on to the solid stone. Zuko pounces on her, holding her wrists in an iron grip. 

“It’s. . . _ over _ . . .Azula” he grits through his teeth as the siblings struggle. Azula fights back, putting every ounce of strength into her muscles so as not to be pinned by her rival. In the corner of her eye, she sees the sharp end of a broken vial. She screams as she pulls her knees up, trying to kick Zuko off of her. He loses his grip on one of her hands. She swiftly grabs for the vial and digs the edge of the glass into his shoulder, tearing his tunic. A thin line of dark red traces under the ragged edge of his clothing. A searing pain sizzles through the Fire Lord, and his graveled voice rips from his mouth as he recoils from Azula.

Zuko grabs at the wound as he looks back at his sister. He glances at the slash on his shoulder, seeing the welts already starting to form around the broken skin. His stomach starts to slosh. He blinks, and a second Azula appears next to the real one. The two figures merge and sway in his blurred vision. In his hallucination, he is sure he sees regret in the face of one, an insane smile plastered on the other. His heart pounds in time with the claws of the giant eelhound as Ozai scoops them both into one body, picking Azula up into the saddle as he rides away. The two disappear into the darkness of the dust and soot. 

The smoke begins to die down as Katara puts out the fires, bending water over them in waves from the back of the shirshu. June pulls on the reins as she re-asserts her control over the enormous mammal. Nyla groans loudly as she comes to a stop, giving Katara the opportunity to run her cool healing hands over her burn wound. June steps down from the shirshu’s back to offer the large animal comfort while Katara does her work. 

As the smoke clears, Katara is distracted from her task by the shadowy figure of Zuko emerging from the dissipating clouds. His gait is stilted, unsteady. Katara can see a piece of glass in his hand as the smoke continues to clear. She watches carefully, but sees no sign of Azula as he stumbles closer. A gasp escapes her lips as she sees the dark red blood that has now seeped down the front of his shirt, leaving a trail of red dots in his wake. 

She launches herself off of the shirshu, but the firebender is already crumpling to the ground. She sees a tattooed arm reach out, catching the young man before he collapses completely. As Katara draws closer to the pair, Zuko sloppily holds the glass out to her. 

“SWh-what d’you think was in this?” he slurs the words together as the broken vial tumbles out of his loose fingers. His eyes roll back as he closes them, dropping his weight completely into June’s arms.

The two women stand stunned as a stiff breeze blows the rest of the smoke up toward the heavens. Finally, the tough bounty hunter blows a gust of irritation into the thick black hair that covers her eye, holding the inert teenage Fire Lord out to the waterbender expectantly.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through this chapter. This was a tough one to write. I'm not an action writer. As always, I welcome all comments and constructive criticism!


	6. The Red Chrysanthemum

Scorching lightning cuts through the air, striking the sands of Zuko’s mind, distorting and fusing his memories into jagged glass. Suddenly, he can feel water washing over him like a wave. The cool liquid floods his body, entering his veins, pulling out pain like a withdrawing tide. His eyes shut tight as cold fingers glance over his chest. 

Crackling flames still roar in his ears, though now the only fire is the humble candlelight illuminating the room. He can vaguely detect a bed underneath him, replacing the hard ground he had collided with before. His eyes flutter as he comes to. A blue glow mixes with the light emanating from the timid orange flame, swirling on what he thinks is the ceiling of his room in the Fire Nation palace.

“June! Get the old woman!” he hears Katara’s voice float over to him, the sound distorted as if it were being yelled underwater. He can see her hovering above him, as if she were watching him sink to the bottom of a lake. A single tear falls from her cerulean eyes, causing a ripple in the surface that reflects the deep tangerine sunlight behind her. As soon as it appears in his vision, the ceiling of the palace is replaced with open air and rocky cliffs. A cat’s meow echoes in the distance. 

“Katara!” he calls out to her, confused. He doesn’t physically hear the call, he’s not sure if his mouth has made the movement. 

His muscles begin to twitch violently as if electricity were coursing through them. 

“This isn’t working!” her voice rings again, and he can hear panic bubbling in the syllables. 

“Katara!” He blinks rapidly as he calls to her a second time, lurching forward, the movement erasing the strange likeness of the waterbender. When he opens his eyes fully again, he is back in the warm darkness of his royal chambers, the blue glow also back in place. He can feel her next to him instead, lifting her hands up, pulling water from a fresh star-shaped wound on his chest. 

“I'm right here,” she says, her voice is soft but guarded, both her cheeks dried riverbeds of tears, “I'm glad to see you awake again. You passed out as I was trying to get you over here.” She sighs as she guides the water in her hands gently into the basin next to his bed.

“Katara,” he repeats the syllables, the edges of his vision still swirling, “whe-where are we?” The echo of her voice is gone. She’s sitting at his side, encased in the dim glow of his quarters. The mountains behind her have vanished. 

“The fire sages pointed me to your room,” she looks sheepish as she says it, and Zuko realizes at that moment that he’s completely missing his shirt. 

“Oh,” he responds quietly, lucid enough to be aware of the embarrassment creeping into his own cheeks. He feels the sound of his response reverberate in his head rather than the room. Pain crashes in again, and he hunches his shoulders, quivering in the sheets. He feels the waterbender’s cool touch, this time on his bare arms as she guides him back into the soft comfort of the bed’s pillows.

“Zuko, I think you’ve got a bit of a fever,” she retakes the water from the basin with her other hand, now running it over his forehead, “You really shouldn’t try to move too much.” He relaxes, parting his lips to speak again.

“Thank you, Katara,” the words are a familiar whisper. 

“You’ve already said that,” there is no irritation in her statement, but she punctuates it with two more words, “multiple times.” 

He hears her voice again as she takes her hand from his forehead and bends the water covering it back into its basin. Surprise jolts through his body as he feels her fingers delicately scoop his into them. 

“And every time the answer is going to be the same,” her tone becomes hushed as she continues, unsure of herself, “I should be the one thanking you. You shouldn’t have done it, Zuko.” She waits a moment before finishing her thought.

”You could have died.”

He knows what he’s going to say next. He’s said it before. This dialogue is not new to him. He becomes aware of having already lived through this exact scene. As it continues to unfold, the familiarity sets in even as his vision begins to blur again. He still feels the rushing frigidity of healing water over him, but the waterbender in front of him is merely holding on to his hand, sitting at his bedside with concerned eyes. His image of her flickers, and again she is surrounded not by anemic candlelight, but a mountainous sunset. He thinks he hears her calling his name, but her lips are not moving.

He shakes the strange hallucination from his head and waits before finally giving the response he knows, the small confession he had uttered after he had taken the lightning for the waterbender on the day of Sozin's Comet - the words he had said after she had sat healing him in his room all night, working through her exhaustion to continuously pull him from the beckoning entrance of the spirit world.

“I would have died either way.” 

His voice is as low as the firelight when he says it. He watches her bite her lip, the dam of her tear ducts threatening to spill salt water on to her face again. The pressure on his fingers increases, even if she won’t look at him. 

“You should try to go back to sleep.” 

He has lived this moment before. Somewhere in the recesses of his muddled mind, he knows he has lived this. And yet it takes this time, this time when his very existence feels hazy, when his grasp on reality is tenuous, to finally see it. 

As she finishes her sentence, he sees the conscious decision she makes to focus on her healing work rather than respond to the implications in what he said. He sees her looking up at the imposing columns of the room, the intricate designs carved into the fine furniture. He watches the calculations. When her eyes are finally on him again, he sees himself as the Fire Lord in their reflection. For the first time since he first laid eyes on her in the tundra of the South Pole, he sees intimidation overtake the waterbender. The realization dawns on him even as his vision starts to fade away, fatigue becoming the dominant force in his healing body once more. 

He still feels her soft fingers around his even as he drifts into the abyss. 

* * *

“What was in that vial?” Katara screams at the old woman, nodding toward the broken glass left lying on the singed, moss-covering brick floor. Her hands move frantically over the gash in Zuko’s shoulder as she barks at the woman, glowing blue as she attempts to lift whatever contaminant has infected him from his system. He lays motionless on the same stone bench his sister had occupied earlier in the day. 

“What vial?” the woman’s senility kicks in as she lackadaisically follows behind the bounty hunter who summoned her from her hiding place, seemingly unaware or unbothered by the medical emergency occurring on her campus.

“Miyuki, what did you do this time? And what happened to our other visitors?”

That cat releases a long yowl, almost as if she were sighing. 

“This one,” June bends over and carefully picks up the broken glass that had fallen from the Fire Lord’s grip moments earlier. 

“Azula slashed Zuko with it,” Katara explains, her voice hard with anger at the escaped princess. 

The old woman stops and squints, peering at the clear shard for a long moment. 

“Oh. . .that,” she becomes somber suddenly. She looks away from the pair of women in her presence before continuing, “I never should have kept those.”

“What?!” Both June and the old woman look over at Katara as she screeches the question. Sweat has formed on the waterbender’s forehead as she continues to run the glowing water over Zuko’s shoulder. “What do you mean?  _ What was in them _ ?”

A heavy sigh reverberates through the herbalist’s old bones before she responds, looking at the broken shelves wistfully.

“I make healing ointments, not poisons,” she starts hesitantly, “but after the fall of Ba Sing Se, some of the soldiers came to me desperate. They said they needed something else to continue the struggle against the Fire Nation armies rapidly spreading across the land, something to defend the little bit of Earth Kingdom they had left.”

The old woman’s story is interrupted as Zuko begins convulsing, causing Katara to lose her grip on her healing water. It splashes to the ground, sinking into the dirt. 

“This isn’t working!” her hands are on the firebender’s arms, trying to hold him steady as he continues to writhe. He groans under her touch, and Katara feels the panic begin to rise in her throat. It’s been so long since she was powerless in the face of an injury. Zuko’s skin is volcanic, the heat burning into the palms of Katara’s hands as she keeps her grip hard on his biceps. She positions herself behind the firebender, wrapping her arms around his torso to hold him in place. 

“Come on lady, we don’t have time for long stories!” June’s husky voice is elevated as she glowers at the aged herbalist. 

“It’s a paralyzing poison made from a combination of the white jade bush and maka’ole berry,” the old woman continues to frown as she explains, “I’ve never seen it used. The war ended before the soldiers came back for it. But if my thoughts on the concoction are correct, the poor young man doesn’t have much time.”

June’s eyes widen as she turns her neck to see Katara cradling the young man in her arms, his twitching now settling back into lifelessness. She is still glistening with sweat from her efforts to heal him, the water now sitting stagnant in the ground, turning the earth to mud. 

“There’s got to be something,” the older woman hears the waterbender’s voice like a low rumble at first. She watches as the girl clings to the boy, her fingers gently moving one of his black tendrils from his scar now that his convulsions have pacified. 

“There was never a need for me to concoct a remedy,” the herbalist states plainly. Miyuki gives a soft meow and the woman looks at her with sad eyes. The small gray cat mews again, and the woman’s expression perks up. 

“However,” she starts, “there is a plant that can cure nearly every poison. There is only one person who cultivates it.” 

Katara gingerly removes herself from her grip on Zuko, standing up. 

“Who? Where?” she’s already walking toward Nyla as she pelts the old woman with the questions. 

“The fortuneteller in Makapu Village,” the herbalist replies. Katara stops in her tracks. 

“Aunt Wu?” she recalls the fortune teller she had harassed upon her first visit to the small settlement, “but that’s miles from here!” 

She feels June’s hand on her shoulder. 

“What am I looking for, grandma?” June asks casually. 

The old woman scowls at the title, but responds quickly. 

“A rare red chrysanthemum, it’s petals can be steeped to create a tea that neutralizes nearly every toxin.” 

Katara stands dumbstruck, recalling the night she spent stowing away with Zuko in the Earth Kingdom ship. The memory of him studying the red chrysanthemum tile in the soft firelight he generated in the belly of the grand vessel flashes in her mind. She tries to shake the image from her mind. It was impossible that the Pai Sho tile had any significance.

June turns the shocked waterbender around to face her. Unfazed by the girl’s reaction, she stoops down to look directly at her.

“I’m gonna go get the flower,  _ you _ stay here,” she says, “I know the way to Makapu, and I think I can easily convince Wu to give up the goods.”

“But-” Katara shakes out of her stunned state to try to protest..

“You have to keep healing Fire Lord Frowny over there. Buy me and Nyla some time.” 

Katara hesitates. Zuko groans again, turning over on the hard bench, nearly falling from its narrow seat. She bites her lip and nods at the bounty hunter. 

“Please hurry,” she pleads, taking both of June’s hands in hers before rushing off back to the firebender. 

“Sure thing, kid” June responds, lifting herself onto Nyla’s saddle, “I may act tough, but I don’t actually want to see anything happen to the new Fire Lord over there. Just keep him alive until I get back. Let’s go Nyla!” she cracks her whip, causing her blind mount to rise up onto her hind legs before taking off running toward the mountain’s valley. 

“What a great idea you had, Miyuki,” the old woman is facing the valley where the shirshu had exited the institute, “the red chrysanthemum, while rare, is such a useful bloom. It makes sense that it can cure all ills.” She looks down at her small feline companion as she pays the compliment. Miyuki gives a soft meow in response.

Katara traces the crimson chasm in Zuko’s shoulder as she pulls her bending water back up from the earth. She can hear the herbalist’s conversation with the furry creature as she works, trying to keep the poison from spreading through Zuko’s body. As the old woman continues speaking, the recollection of her Pai Sho lesson with Iroh, the one she had searched for as she watched the firebender scrutinize the tile in the darkness of the earth kingdom ship hold, finally enters her consciousness. 

“After all,” the old woman says and Katara hears Iroh’s voice merge into the her’s as she continues, “The red chrysanthemum is the symbol of deep passion and love.”

* * *

The sound of a splash wakes Zuko from what felt like a deep slumber, though it is still dark when he opens his eyes. He searches the area, seeing only a family of turtleducks sloshing in the pond, paddling their way home. His back is against the willow tree that sways over the circumference of the aquatic creatures’ habitat. For some reason, he checks the area, expecting to see Azula. He only sees moonlight reflected in the pool of the garden. Next, he runs a hand over his chest, feeling for a wound he knows he doesn’t have. Instead, he feels the stiffness of his Fire Lord robes, the points that grace his shoulders as part of his official royal countenance. 

“Zuko?” he hears Katara’s voice and snaps out of his confusion, looking up to see the young water tribe woman approaching him from the other side of the garden. She’s clad in a simple blue kimono that glides gracefully over the grass as she moves toward him. Her hair is pinned back as it usually is, twin pearls marking the start of the tendrils that frame her face, pinned in a bun with a silver clasp at the base of her neck. The rest of her chestnut curls fall over her shoulders, blowing softly in the mild night breeze.

This is her last night in the Fire Nation after Ozai’s defeat. Zuko isn’t sure how he knows it. He’s not even quite sure how he’s gotten to his mother’s gardens, or how she found him here. But he drinks in the sight of her anyway, somehow knowing it will be the last time his thirst will be quenched for a long time. 

“Why aren’t you still at the party?” he hears his voice asking the question. He even feels the rasp tumble from his lungs. But it’s not the thought in his head. 

“I saw you leave and-,” she fiddles with the threads of her kimono as he stands to greet her, “well, I followed you.” She looks down as she confesses to her actions, but regains her composure quickly. 

“Why aren’t  _ you _ still at the party? It’s not like Mai would ever ask you to dance with her if you’re worried about  _ that _ ,” she stammers. 

“You’re right, she won’t,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck as he averts his gaze from her, choosing instead to find the craters in the moon’s reflected surface, “Mai is-” he pauses, deciding how much to reveal, “Mai is leaving. With Ty Lee. Tomorrow. I know everyone assumed we would get back together when she showed up at the coronation, but it just doesn’t work between us anymore.” 

He chooses not to divulge the new barrier that divides him and his former girlfriend. 

“Oh,” she responds softly, holding on to her elbow as she stands awkwardly. 

“But also, I can dance!” Zuko breaks the uncomfortable silence with a grumpiness in his tone that Katara is unfamiliar with. It’s much more playful than the inflection he would use with the group before the end of the war, when Sokka would poke him with sticks just to get a reaction. It causes a chuckle to pull the corners of her lips into a smile. 

“Oh right, I forgot, you can do the fancy dragon dance,” she channels her earlier awkwardness into exaggerated hand movements, mocking the moves of the Dancing Dragon form. 

Zuko scoffs, making a face, a sly smile still apparent in his features. 

“No, that’s  _ not _ all,” he grabs the waterbender’s hand mid-mock as he says it, pulling her toward him. She’s taken off guard and a blush rushes to her cheeks as she feels his warm palm on her waist.

“I had to learn dancing as part of my royal lessons,” he says plainly, surprised at even his own boldness as he begins to lead his companion in the steps he was taught as a child, “My mom always made sure I practiced.”

Katara tentatively reaches up to place her other hand on his shoulder, and the two begin to dance in the grass of the courtyard. The only music in the dimly lit garden is an orchestra of cicadas, their only audience the bright crescent hanging in the sky. The performance is stilted at first, but Katara picks up on the movement quickly. Glow flies erupt from their hiding places, providing sporadic twinkles of illumination in the darkness. 

After some time, Zuko’s voice cuts through the garden’s song.

“You still never told me why you followed me,” he says as he releases the waterbender into a twirl. She spins back into his grasp, still not answering. 

“You really  _ can _ dance,” she says instead, hoping she can escape the inquiry with a compliment. She moves as if she is going to spin again, but Zuko stops her, holding her in place in front of him. 

“You really should be back inside with the others,” there’s a tinge of guilt in the words, as if he’s keeping her from something. He sees defiance light up in her eyes as she studies his face. 

“This is our last night here,” she announces as if she’s been waiting to say it all night, effrontery breaking way to what sounds like regret, “You know I’m leaving with Aang tomorrow.” 

The sense of deja vu in Zuko is overwhelming. He’s experienced this agonizing moment before. He says nothing, but feels a wave of unexplainable pain across his chest. He releases the waterbender’s hand to clasp at the star-shaped scar beneath his robes, but the pain is emanating from his shoulder. She doesn’t notice his slight grimace as she pulls away from him completely, facing the white gleam of the moon.

“I saw you sneak out and- and-,” she stutters weakly, “I just didn’t think you should be alone. We’re all supposed to be together tonight.” 

He watches her outline in the darkness, not immediately offering a response, though there are thousands of words waiting in his throat. She has wrapped the long silk sleeves of her kimono around herself as she stares out over the water. 

“I  _ have _ to go,” she continues, trying to inject conviction into the words, “he needs me. He’s got this big job to do, he’s still the world’s best hope for continued peace. He’s got all this responsibility, and he’s still so young. I can never turn my back on those who need me.” 

Still standing behind her, Zuko reaches out to touch her, but stops. 

“There’s got to be something,” he hears her voice again, echoing through the courtyard in a low rumble, but it sounds removed from the evening air. It sounds instead like a drop of rain landing on the damp grass, erupting into tiny particles of sound. Zuko searches the sky, but not a single cloud is floating in the stark moonlight. 

The words stay with him as he continues to stare ahead at the young woman in the soft kimono, the intricate embroidery iridescent in the soft celestial glow. 

_ There’s got to be something.  _

There’s got to be something he can say. There’s got to be something he can do. There’s got to be some way for him to explain that  _ he _ needs her, too, that they were  _ all _ too young for these burdens of the world. 

She turns around to face him, and when their eyes lock he fears that the words won’t come this time, either. She steps closer to him, her chin upturned, her cerulean eyes looking at him expectantly.

“Zuko, I-” she whispers, not finishing her sentence. Silence fills the space between them. 

_ There’s got to be something. _ There’s got to be something he could have done differently in this moment. Anything to stop what he knows is coming next. 

He cannot summon his voice. He cannot command his body to move. Suddenly the glittering metal ornament in his hair feels heavy, unwieldy. He is overwhelmed by his own responsibility to the world, and the responsibility he has to her to see her happy. 

The moment slips through his fingers like a trickling stream. 

“I’m sorry,” she says suddenly, “I shouldn’t have come out here.”

Her blue silk kimono twists, the fabric folding in on itself, her curls forming a whirlwind as she quickly turns away from him, disappearing back into the grand halls of the Fire Nation palace, disappearing into the vast sky on an enormous bison. 

Zuko watches her leave helplessly, regret seeping into him like dew on the branches of the willow tree now swaying in the hollow breeze. The moonlight in the garden fades and darkness closes around him again. 

* * *

He’s supposed to rise with the sun. 

He doesn’t rouse, even as the burning celestial body begins emitting its rays over the towering institute, beams peeking through the plateaus of the mountain range. 

She tries again. 

She picks the water up, holds it in her hands, and places it on his shoulder. First she pushes, driving the water into the crevice of the wound. Then she pulls, straining, trying to pluck the sticky black bile from the firebender’s simmering blood. 

It stays put, not leaving the wound, but not advancing any further. It’s been hours of this stalemate. She’ll accept the borrowed time for now. 

The elderly herbalist enters the room she had helped Katara drag the firebender into the day evening prior. He lays sweating on a simple futon in the middle of the empty space. Aside from occasional fits, he's stayed motionless on the cushion. She places the fresh basin of water next to the mattress and the exhausted waterbender. 

“You won’t be able to keep this up unless you get some rest yourself, dear,” she says, a sweet concern in her expression, “you've done enough that he will be ok for a few hours.”

Katara rubs at her eyes. She ignores the old woman, instead pulling the fresh water over her unconscious patient, trying again to extract the insidious poison from him. 

The woman doesn’t insist. She merely leaves the room, only to reappear moments later with another bedroll. Wordlessly, she spreads it out on the floor next to Zuko. Miyuki narrows her eyes at the waterbender, meowing insistently. 

Katara sighs, clearly outvoted. She scoots over to the simple linens, dragging the basin of water with her. She murmurs a begrudging thank you to the herbalist, who again exits the room. 

She lays next to Zuko, still feeling heat come off of him in waves. He stirs a bit, grinding his teeth. 

“You can’t leave,” she says the words to him like an order, “I didn’t stay up all night healing you after the Agni Kai only to have Azula kill you now.”

He breathes deeply, now turned on his side, facing her with closed eyes, hair sticking to his forehead in clumps. She watches him for a moment before continuing. 

“I never told you about the last time I was near this area, did I?” she says suddenly, carrying on a conversation with the inert boy as if he were actively engaged. 

“Sokka got me sick,” the nostalgia softens the tired waterbender’s features as she begins the story, “we were both delirious. Aang actually came here to find help. I had to rely on Momo to tend to us.” 

She keeps going, hoping her reminiscing might be getting through to him, even if the story is an inane one.

“I kept asking Momo for water. Can you imagine? A waterbender asking a lemur for water. He probably only heard me squeaking some weird monkey sounds that made no sense. Anyway, he kept flying off, only to bring me the most useless junk. I think the funniest one was this weird old crown with twin dragons holding a kind of sun between them.”

Zuko’s eyelids flutter. Encouraged, Katara keeps going.

“He put it right on my head! I ask for water and instead I get some crazy dragon crown. You should have seen it. I almost thought I had imagined it at the time, but it was still there even after I got done sucking on that gross frozen frog.”

The firebender murmurs something in his deep slumber. 

“Yeah,” she gives a weak laugh, “imagine me in a crown. Pretty crazy, right?” 

His eyes remain closed, but his features become peaceful, as if he were just asleep and not beleaguered by a deadly poison. 

“Yep, pretty crazy,” she repeats again, almost as if she’s saying it to herself. Seeing his serene expression, Katara feels relief set into her own muscles. Sleep tugs insistently at her consciousness, and she yawns, finally giving in. 

She doesn’t wake up until she hears a familiar voice, gruff and throaty. 

“Wake up, not-the-Fire-Lord’s-girlfriend. It’s time to brew some tea.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Look at this, it's my first chapter fic! At least, it's my first chapter fic since I was a little tiny baby fanfic writer, writing what might be the only Ryoko/Kamidake Tenchi Muyo! fanfiction in existence. But I digress. Thank you for reading this little prologue. I'm going to attempt to write this whole story, because the premise came to me, and then all of these others ideas for how to execute it followed. I will be very up front with folks - I have never before finished a chapter fic. But this time - I have a plan! I have basically the entire plot mapped out, which I am hoping will make it easier. 
> 
> I cannot guarantee completely regular updates, but I do plan to finish this story. Not to be weird, but validation is a great motivator and I strongly believe that reviews, comments, and follows will be very helpful in encouraging me to continue!
> 
> Also, this story does borrow from some canon elements, and also is heavily inspired by some other fics and ideas that have been floating around in the Zutara corner of the internet for the *coughs* number of years I've been part of this fandom. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!


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